


New in Town

by Its_Bee_Winchester



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, I really don't know where this will go really, M/M, lots of fluff, mayyyyybe some smut eventually, no promises there, your typical high school AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 22,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Bee_Winchester/pseuds/Its_Bee_Winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil Palmer is that weird sophomore no one really talks to with pink streaks in his hair and odd markings (tattoos? really weird birth marks? no one is really sure) all up his arms and a (probably serious) coffee addiction. He does the morning announcements, so they know of him, but as a whole the school avoids him.<br/>Carlos is the new kid, immediately enveloped by the small colony of science nerds perpetually occupying the chem lab, usually seen hiding under a mop of ridiculously shiny black curls, and, more often than not, wearing oversized science pun t-shirts.<br/>And the rest is history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was Carlos' first day at Night Vale High. His family had finished moving last week, during _winter break_ of all times, and now Carlos found himself dumped in an increasingly odd town(he'd overheard his mother complaining about the lack of groceries in the grocery store, and Carlos himself had noticed that the sun literally screeched as it went down), standing awkwardly in front of the looming school building in the middle of the school year, wholly alone in the sea of other students. He surveyed the hoards warily from under his hair, which he refused to cut, despite constant pleas from his mother - "Dios mio, Carlito, how can I see your handsome face if you cover it with all that hair?" she'd asked him at breakfast - straightened his "Never trust atoms" t-shirt and with a deeper, more dramatic breath than was probably necessary, made for the doors.

He'd gotten a list of classes in the mail a few days after he arrived at his family's new home, but that didn't make Carlos any more confident about where he was going. The unfamiliar numbers next to the names of classes on the sheet could have been in Martian, for all they helped Carlos. He frowned at the paper, wishing it would give him some clue - stranger things happened in this town than talking schedule sheets - but it remained stubbornly unresponsive. 

Carlos was jarred by a stray elbow suddenly, and with a start he realized he had stopped directly in the doorway of the school. He hurried to get out of the way, and, after a moment's thought, decided the best course of action was to simply look for doors and hope the numbers on them matched the numbers on his schedule. He quickly discovered that, to his immense relief, they appeared to be in numerical order, and therefore room 453 would be on the fourth floor. He arrived, panting, to the classroom in the nick of time, sliding into the only available desk, to the far left and one row back from the front, seconds before the bell rung. 

The other students, who were loitering in clusters, talking in their already established social groups, or frantically jotting down homework from before the break, dispersed and the blur of chatter faded, replaced almost immediately by a loud, perky voice from an intercom system hidden somewhere in the classroom.

"Good morning, fellow students of NVHS," the voice said, cracking slightly. "I and the faculty hope you all had good winter vacations, and I've got some announcements for the upcoming semester. Alright. The head of the school board, the almighty Glow Cloud -" here the students, the teacher, and the voice on the intercom muttered "all hail" in a bored monotone - "has announced that apples are now banned from school property. As always, astrally projecting yourself into a class will be counted as an absence. Please stop trying to do that, says principle Jeremy, and Wednesday, has - um - well, it's just been cancelled. However, if there is a day between Tuesday and Thursday at all, and I don't actually know if there will be or not, you will still be required to be at school. Just because the day has been cancelled does not mean it isn't a school day, students. And lastly, due to some health complaints from parents, poisoning your classmates' meals will now result in detention. Have a good day, Night Vale High."

The other students groaned at the message that the non-Wednesday was still a school day, but otherwise seemed unresponsive to the announcements, choosing to slump down over their phones or simply stare into space in a sleep deprivation induced stupor. Carlos was glad he'd managed to get into chemistry for first period, but he wished there were more students who actually cared about the subject. 

The professor, who Carlos assumed was called Doctor Carson, based on the loopy cursive script on the blackboard, separated them into twos and threes, and Carlos found himself squashed between a girl and boy, who identified themselves as Rachelle and Dave, at one of the experiment stations. Rachelle was a tall, skinny girl with thin red hair and a perpetual look of mild surprise on her face, and Dave was shorter, rounder, with dark hair that was parted rather horrifyingly down the middle and the sort of glasses that seemed to mimic the round shape of his body. He had an accent Carlos was unfamiliar with, a slight lilt that only affected a few words and that Carlos thought might be vaguely based from Australian, though he'd never heard an Australian accent before, so he wasn't sure. The pair seemed friendly enough, asking the usual polite questions ("Where are you from?" "Bet your other chemistry teachers didn't suck this much, huh?" "So how long have you been here?") and a few less usual, like "How did you find Night Vale?" and "You  _do_ know that's illegal, right?" about nothing Carlos could identify as even remotely breaking any laws he knew of. _  
_

By the end of the class, Carlos had been introduced to the rest of the group Dave and Rachelle had been talking to before class. There was Veronica, a Japanese girl with dark eyeliner and red striped hair down her back that was nearly twice as long as Carlos' own, Cleo, with a mess of unruly blonde curls which seemed to defy gravity, Liam, absurdly tall and with a perpetual grin splitting his tawny face, and lastly Isaac, small and built like a child, slapping at Liam in what appeared to be a never-ending stream of separate friendly squabbles. The group seemed tight and complete without the addition of Carlos, but they all appreciated his shirt, and were as interested as he was in the sciences, so he considered it a decent match for the first class of his first day. And they invited him to eat lunch with them here in the chem lab, so that got the whole awkward cafeteria question out of the way. 

All in all, Carlos thought it was a pretty successful encounter. He could be doing much worse. 

 

\-----------

 

After that first day, Carlos’ week sped past in a blur of classes and new faces and predictably questionable cafeteria food. He was surprised on Friday morning when the voice on the intercom announced that the friday schedule was completely different from any other day. Students were to leave their current classrooms immediately, find the new Friday schedules that had been taped to their lockers, and then report to their Friday classes as quickly as possible. Friday, the voice said, was a special day, and deserved to feel like it. It deserved to have these special, different, Friday classes.

 

Apparently, this sort of thing wasn’t new to anyone else, as when Carlos arrived in his new, Friday classroom, most of the seats were claimed and a slew of students were milling around, unperturbed by the change as they waited for the Friday teacher to arrive. Carlos’ Friday classes included Local History, where he assumed he was now based on the maps and paper replicas of soft-meat crowns hung on the walls, Bloodstone Operation 1A, Basic Necromancy, and something called the Art of Cheesemaking. There was also math, english and Modified Sumerian, which Carlos wasn’t even sure was a real language, but was put in the third level class anyways for reasons unknown.

 

The only seats left in the classroom were the four directly to the front, back, left and right of a boy in the third row back. He was facing away from Carlos, his white-blond head bent over something he was drawing. Even from behind he looked small - malnourished even, Carlos thought - his skinny arms jabbing out from a short sleeved white shirt and a dark purple vest, like something that was supposed to be worn under an old-fashioned suit jacket. The other students seemed to be giving him a wide berth, but Carlos had no choice but the four seats surrounding him. He slid quietly into the one to the right, dropping his notebook and the cocktail straw non-pen his new friends had given him on the desk. Almost inhumanly fast, the boy’s head shot up and he turned to face Carlos. His face slipped from a frown to a surprisingly pointy-toothed grin, wider than Carlos thought natural. Even stranger than that, though, was that he appeared to have not two, but three brilliantly violet eyes.

 

“Hello, Newcomer,” the boy said, and Carlos thought he recognized his voice as the one in the morning announcements. Carlos simply stared as his three eyes blinked in unison, long, dark lashes hiding the unusual purple color for a fraction of a second. Now that the boy was facing Carlos, the magenta streaks in his pale hair made themselves visible. The streaks were smeared haphazardly over the top of his head, as if painted on, and from his new angle Carlos could see the hair was perfectly sculpted in a way that reminded Carlos of pictures of little boys in the fifties. He wore a pair of purple wire-rimmed glasses, and Carlos wondered briefly if his third eye simply had better vision than the regular two or if he had a contact. The boy stuck out his hand expectantly, and Carlos realized he’d been staring. “I’m Cecil, and you’re pretty. What’s your name?”

 

“Oh,” Carlos felt his face heat up and was glad his already golden brown skin could usually hide a blush. “Uh, I’m Carlos. I’m new here.”

 

“Yes, yes, I know who everyone is here. I do the morning announcements,” the boy - no, Cecil - added, irrelevantly.

 

Carlos glanced down at the paper this strange boy had been so concentrated on, unsure how to respond. It was covered with abstract designs and strings of words that seemed almost like sentences but not quite.

 

Just then, a short, round woman came in, and the other students scrambled into their seats with a clatter of chairs and supplies, cutting Carlos and Cecil’s short conversation off shortly. She clapped her hands twice, introduced herself as Mrs. Daniels, the local history teacher, and said that she would not be taking any kind of shenanigans or unnecessary talking in her class.

 

Cecil leaned over towards Carlos, whispering, “Don’t worry. This class is easy, all she does is put in movies and fall asleep.”

 

Carlos noticed he smelled faintly of rosemary.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Carlos didn’t see Cecil again until the next Wednesday. They didn’t have any classes together other than the special Friday first period, which Carlos found odd - the school didn’t seem that big, now that he was over his first-day jitters - and he spent his lunches in the chem lab with Rachelle and Dave, and occasionally one or two of the others, so he didn’t have a chance to see him then, either.

So, it was not until Carlos’ mother sent him to go see if the Ralph’s actually carried milk that he saw the strange boy again. He’d been perusing the aisles for what felt like an eternity already, passing gardening supplies, heavy machinery, a dark doorway with a sign in written morse code which Carlos, after squinting for a moment, figured out translated to “Wheat and Wheat Bi-products”, dozens of empty produce stands labeled “Invisible Corn”, and an absurd amount of spices and teas, with names like Cloudless Sunset and Magenta Champion. He was just poring over some of the more uniquely named spices, pushing his cart forward slowly without really watching it, when it crashed with a startling clatter into someone else’s cart. 

Embarrassed and startled by the sound, Carlos looked up. It took him a second to recognize his friday classmate, dressed as he was. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, taking in the… uh, creative outfit his - friend? Classmate? Carlos decided to go with acquaintance - was wearing. An oversized grey sweater dotted with pink kittens was layered over rather unrealistically neon universe-print leggings. He had delicate little leather loafers to top off the outfit, embroidered with - was that pasta? Carlos could just see a thin line of rainbow striped socks peeking from between the leggings and the loafers. The pink stripes in his hair were somehow in zigzags now. Carlos thought they looked better before but he kept it to himself.

“Uh, hi,” Carlos said, realizing he’d been staring (again) and shuffling in place awkwardly. “Sorry for bumping into you, Cecil. I didn’t recognize you in that getup. You going somewhere special?”

Cecil glanced down at himself, smoothing his sweater as he shook his head. “Nah, this is just a casual outfit. I like bright colors.”

“Oh,” Carlos wasn’t sure what to say. “I, um, I see that. But at school you were so…” He waved his arms in small circles, not sure how to describe Cecil’s school day apparel, either.

“I like to look professional, yeah. I mean, I don’t really pay attention in any classes but art, but at least if I look like a massive nerd teachers sometimes take me for one and let me off easy,” Cecil shrugged. 

“Oh,” Carlos said again, feeling like an idiot. After a pause that seemed to stretch on for centuries, Cecil pointed to Carlos’ cart, one dark eyebrow raised in a question. 

“Your cart’s looking pretty empty, Carlos. Are you having trouble finding things or did you just come to read the spice labels?”

So you noticed that, Carlos thought to himself, mortified. “No, my mom sent me here for milk. She’s been unable to find any, though my dad said he saw some in a newspaper stand last week. The spices are interesting, though.”

Cecil grinned, and Carlos was as shocked the second time as he had been the first at how sharp his teeth were. “I recommend the Vermilion Owl -” he pointed to a bright turquoise powder - “It’s really good with yogurt. I eat it for breakfast. And I can show you where the milk is.” He tossed a package into Carlos’ cart, not giving him a chance to say no. It had "Meridian Owl" written on the label in a loopy script that reminded Carlos of calligraphy he'd seen in the old books his father worked with at the museum in their old town.

“Okay, thanks,” Carlos was surprised when Cecil grabbed his hand and hurried him back down the aisle from whence he’d come. He was pulled up and down in what felt like an endless labyrinth of strangely labeled foods and a whole aisle of lawnmowers and garden tools before Cecil skidded to a halt in front of a single glass doored refrigerator at the end of a narrow aisle. He dropped Carlos’ hand to open the door, and Carlos found himself missing the warmth of the smaller boy’s fingers grasping his. He pointed to the top shelf and made a small bow.

“There you go, cow’s milk, goat’s milk, spiderwolf’s milk and even dandelion milk, whatever your newcomer’s heart desires.”

Carlos thanked him and picked out the biggest bottle of regular cow’s milk to put in his cart. “You didn’t have to waste all this time taking me down here, though. Don’t you have your own errands to run?”

“Yeah, but you have to go in a certain pattern down the aisles or this doesn't show up. Besides -” he gestured to his cart - “I only get all this instant stuff anyways, and it’s all in the same place, so I’m pretty much done.”

“Why? It’s not good for you,” Carlos asked, concerned. His parents never bought instant food, except occasionally for long car trips, and he couldn’t imagine eating nothing but foods that tasted like cardboard and sugar.

“I don’t cook, and no one else cooks, so it’s what there is,” Cecil said shortly, avoiding Carlos’ eyes. “I… I should go. My mom will be wondering where I am. I’ll see you around, nerd.”

“Oh, okay,” Carlos watched as Cecil turned on his heel and practically fled back in the direction of the spice and tea rack, where his cart still stood, filled with cardboard boxes of cardboard food. “I’ll see you in local history, I guess,” he said, mostly to himself. Cecil was already gone. 

He shrugged, turned away from the tiny dairy fridge and directed his attention to finding the registers (if there were any), trying not to worry about the odd end to their conversation. His classmate probably wasn’t the strangest thing in this town, but Carlos was having a difficult time making himself believe it. He hoped Cecil was okay.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day before class started, Carlos told his friends about his strange encounter with the voice of the school’s morning announcements. They reacted more negatively than he expected, but they were very curious, too.

“Why didn’t you just ask one of us to take you?” asked Rachelle.

“Why would you talk to him? He’s so weird!” exclaimed Liam.

“Have you seen his third eye? I don’t think he’s even human,” added Veronica, eyes bugging out as if she might start wiggling her fingers and going “ooooOOOohh” like someone telling a ghost story at any second. 

Carlos was confused. The guy was kind of weird, but did the whole school really hate him as much as it seemed they did? It didn’t seem fair. “He’s not that bad,” Carlos said quietly. And then, louder, “Do any of you want to study for the quiz next week after school? My mom is making dulce de leche cake, and she wants to meet you guys.”

There was a general murmur of assent, and then the warning bell rang, conveniently cutting their conversation short and sending Veronica, Cleo, Isaac and Liam scurrying to their classrooms. 

Over the course of the day, Carlos mulled over his friends’ reactions to the voice of Night Vale High. He asked a few other students as well, and they all reacted similarly, expressing disgust or… fear? But why? Carlos kept a lookout for Cecil as he made his way from classroom to classroom, but he didn’t see him anywhere.

\-----------

“Carlito, tell your friends dinner is ready!” Carlos’ mother’s thickly accented voice called upstairs. Like the rest of the town, the house Carlos and his family had moved into was… well, not ordinary. It was a low, flat building, with chipping, white paint and doorways Carlos’ papá had to stoop to get through. But, slightly to the south of centered on top of the building was a single, round room. Of course Carlos had claimed it immediately, leaving his siblings to squabble over the boring, squarish rooms on the ground floor. He was the eldest, he deserved the weirdest/best room in the house, he reasoned. 

“Sí, Mamá, they can hear you too, you know!” Carlos yelled back. “Guys, we should go. She gets upset if everyone isn't there in a timely way.”

“Okay, Carlito,” Isaac said, jabbing Carlos’ ribs and grinning.   
Carlos blushed, embarrassed. His friends were draped over the minimal furniture and less minimal boxes arranged in his room, either absently looking at his stuff or on their phones. No one had gotten any studying done. Everyone was too curious about all the “illegal” possessions Carlos had. His old pencil case filled with regular ballpoint pens and number two pencils were now helpfully destroyed by Liam and Veronica. The three heavy boxes of books, most of which were apparently banned here for illegal content like stating mountains exist, or anything about the government, or the bible, which mentioned angels, which obviously didn’t exist either and shouldn’t have been mentioned, were pored over with the same sort of curiosity and horror with which one would treat a strange bug in the bathtub or a particularly unpleasant-looking person on the bus. 

Carlos managed to distract them from his things long enough to herd them down through the trapdoor in the middle of the room with less difficulty than he expected. However finding enough chairs for everyone proved to be too difficult even for him. In the end his two brothers, Fernando and Ramon, shared one, alternatively trying to shove one another off and pretending to be conjoined twins, and Liam and Isaac, whether consciously or not, did pretty much the same. 

“Boys, huh?” said Veronica to Cleo, and Carlos’ five year old sister Lucila nodded knowingly from her place between them, proud to be partially included by the bigger girls. 

Carlos was glad everyone was getting along so well, and when dinner was over and everyone had complimented a pleased Mamá on her cooking, Liam and Isaac had pleaded as much as Fernando and Ramon for them to be allowed to stay up. He felt a warm sense of fulfillment at finding such a group so quickly. 

Only after everyone had gone home and Carlos was propped up in bed with a textbook on his knees and a flashlight balanced on his shoulder - he hadn’t unpacked his bedside lamp yet, and reading this way was giving him a delicious bout of nostalgia from when he used to share a room with Fernando, before Ramon and Lucila were born, and had to read with a flashlight under the covers to avoid waking him - did Carlos think about Cecil again. 

He wondered what the other boy was up to, if he was okay, with all his instant food and his probably unavailable family, and then he wondered why he was thinking of any of this. They hardly knew each other. Putting the confusing thoughts out of his mind, Carlos turned his attention back to the textbook in front of him. He _did_ have a test coming up.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a long day. It was Monday, which meant the cafeteria only stocked live fish and Nutella at lunch time, and Carlos’ friends had snuck off campus to buy some real food, but since the punishment for that was death, Carlos had politely declined going with them, saying he’d lived in this town for less than a month, and didn’t want to risk his life to get a sandwich just yet. And a student in second period had decided that turning into a shark on Carlos’ desk was a good idea, which had been… startling. 

Carlos was just walking away from the school building, relieved and alone for the first time in what felt like decades, when he heard a loud “Hey!” from behind him. At first he didn’t even react - he’d said goodbye to all of his friends already, and if anyone had anything that important to say to him they could always text him, or better yet, wait until tomorrow, but when it was followed a few seconds later by his name, he had no option but to turn around. He was almost surprised to even see Cecil on campus on a not-Friday, coming towards him with one hand raised in greeting and another short, redheaded boy by his side. 

“Oh, hey Cecil. Hey…” he trailed off, looking at the other boy in confusion. 

“Earl Harlan,” said Earl Harlan, sticking out a freckled hand in a way Carlos couldn’t tell if it was threatening or friendly. 

“Oh. Okay. Hi, then, Earl Harlan.” 

“Earl has been my friend since we were both little, he says,” Cecil said, as if that explained anything. “I thought you two should meet, since, you know -”

“Since ya haven’t beaten the little nerd up yet, he means,” Earl interrupted him, mussing Cecil’s hair affectionately. 

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to Carlos to beat Cecil up. “I don’t usually beat people up,” he laughed nervously. 

“Good, cuz if you do, I’ll end you.” Earl said casually, like someone remarking on the weather, or a movie they’d seen last week. 

_Is he threatening me? Did you bring him here to threaten me?_ Carlos thought, confused by the unusual conversation. “Okay, well, I, um, I don’t think I’ll beat him up.” 

Earl Harlan glared at Carlos doubtfully for a moment, which would have been comical, given his height, if he didn’t look so completely serious. Finally, he simply said, “Okay. I gotta go, Scout meeting at all. Later, nerd.” 

Cecil waved as Earl patted his head again and then ran off down the block. “Earl is my friend,” he said simply. 

“Yeah…” Carlos paused. “Cecil, you don’t think I’m gonna beat you up, do you?”

“No,” Cecil shook his head, smoothing his ruffled hair back to its original position. “But Earl does. He’s very protective. He says we grew up together.”

“Says?”

“I don’t remember everything. It might be reeducation, might be me. I’m not sure.” 

“Reeducation?”

“Don’t worry about it. As long as you follow the rules you won’t have to worry about reeducation.” Cecil sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m very good at following the rules. Which gets me to what I actually wanted to ask.” Cecil stared at Carlos, his three purple eyes expectant. 

“Oh. Oh? What did you want to ask?” Carlos asked, realizing this was what Cecil was staring at him for. 

“Well, you know how I don’t really pay attention in class, right?”

“Now I do. What’s your question, Cecil?”

“I, um,” Cecil rocked back and forth on his heels, pressing his fingertips together so hard the flesh turned white. “Well, I was wondering if you could tutor me. Just like, once a week, or something, and only if you want to, I don’t want to be a burden, you know.”

“I don’t know if I’m really qualified, the only classes I do really well in are the sciences. I get mostly Bs in everything else,” Carlos said modestly, watching as Cecil swayed nearer and farther in front of him. 

“Oh, that’s fine, I mean,” Cecil looked at the ground, blushing slightly. “I get, like, Ds, so anything would be an improvement, really.”

Carlos pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and then swept his hand through his hair, unsure. “I’m sure you could find someone more qualified -” 

“No, no!” Cecil said, cutting him off. “Um, I mean, it’s fine, really. I don’t need perfect, and… well, they don’t really seem to like me, anyways. And Earl’s in trouble even more than I am, so you see why I can’t ask him.”

Carlos didn’t have to ask who “they” were. “Okay. I, uh, I don’t have anything planned this afternoon anyways, would you like to start now? We can work outside, I don’t want to risk another run-in with a librarian,” he rubbed the scratch on his arm from his last attempt at visiting the library ruefully. 

“Yeah,” Cecil nodded, bouncing on his toes. “Yeah. I’d like that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok whoever's reading this i'm so sorry. Kind of. A little bit. This hurts me too but on the other hand   
> *laughs maniacally*   
> you're welcome folks

Carlos had always considered himself a pretty light sleeper. He was the one his siblings came to with bad dreams in the middle of the night, he was the one who was up at odd hours feverishly performing scientific experiments because waiting until morning would mean forgetting half the steps, he was the one his parents were always wearily and rather hopelessly telling to at least try to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight, please, on their way to their own bed. He didn’t consider waking up and falling back asleep a hindrance or even an abnormality.

 

However, waking up to the sound of his _I fucking love science_ ringtone going off insistently from across the room was anything but normal, even for Carlos. He yanked the blankets off his bed and stumbled over to the phone, squinting at the name on the screen.

 

“Cecil?” Carlos asked groggily. “It’s almost two in the morning, why - what’s going on? Are you ok?”

 

He was answered only by silence for a moment, then a shaky breath and a wet sounding sniffle. “I… I’m ok…”

 

“Mm, doesn’t exactly sound like it,” Carlos said doubtfully, curling back up on his bed. Then, more gently, “why are you crying, Cecil?”

 

“My brother… I - I told him, and…” Cecil sniffled again, and his voice sounded like he was holding back a sob.

 

“What? Told him what?”

 

Silence.

 

“Can I come over, Carlos?” Cecil’s voice was soft, barely audible over the phone. “I’m just a little scared, I’m sorry, I know it’s late, I’m just scared…”

 

“Oh. Ohhh,” Carlos said, shaking his head to clear it and sitting up again. “Yeah, um, I guess so, I can’t let you in through the front door, my parents will wake up - you know where I live, right?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“It’s the weird place next to Big Rico’s.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

“Oh. Okay. Um, text me when you’re here, I guess. I - I’ll figure something out. I think I have some rope in here somewhere,” Carlos wedged his phone against his shoulder, rummaging through a box labeled “Random - Carlos’ room”. “Yeah. Just text when you get here. And be quiet!”

 

“...Okay,” Cecil said finally. “Thanks Carlos. Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine. You can explain when you get here,” Carlos said gently. “I’m gonna hang up now. See you in ten, Cecil.”

 

Carlos put his phone down and found a shirt in the pile of laundry on his dresser. He went back to rummaging through his boxes, destroying the order he’d spent so much time creating and manifesting in them, standing up with a quiet “Aha!” when he found a rope. It was pretty sturdy, and long, he hoped long enough for his short friend to reach from the ground. Carlos worried the rope in his hands, staring at his phone from across the room until the screen lit up. He scrambled out of the window without even checking it.

 

Cecil’s blond hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, the pink streaks dark as blood in contrast with the silvery light. His face was tilted up and Carlos, strangely, thought of saying _Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou,_ towered and above Cecil as he was. He didn’t even like Shakespeare.

 

Shaking his head to clear it and pushing his braided hair over his shoulder, Carlos knelt down at the edge of the roof. He’d knotted the rope to the tiny iron railing around the edge of the roof a moment earlier, and he hoped it was strong enough to hold Cecil’s weight. He tossed the rope down, relieved when it swung down to hang just above Cecil’s waist.

 

To his surprise, Cecil was actually quite a good climber. He shimmied up the rope like some kind of large monkey, and when Carlos helped heave him onto the roof, he was hardly even out of breathe. Up close, all of Cecil seemed to radiate moonlight instead of just reflect it. Carlos ushered him through the window.

 

“So, how’d you get here?” Carlos asked the Cecil-shaped lump curled up on his bed. He himself was perched, knees-to-chin, in his desk chair (now sadly deskless, since the move), spinning slowly back and forth, and he felt oddly therapisty, despite his striped flannel pajama pants and ratty t-shirt.

 

“I biked. Left it down the street in a bush. Why?”

 

“Just curious, I guess,” Carlos paused, letting the silence thicken between them. Then, “so, are you going to tell me why you called me crying at a quarter to two in the morning?”

 

“O-okay, I guess,” Cecil seemed reluctant, tucking himself into a tighter ball in the middle of Carlos’ small bed. “You should probably turn on the light…”

 

“Huh? Why?” Carlos raised one eyebrow, fiddling with his braid absently.

 

“I just think,” Cecil paused and Carlos wondered if he was going to cry again. “I just think it would help.”

 

Carlos relented, pushing himself off the wall in the direction of the lightswitch. He flicked it on and spun back around to face Cecil. “Oh,” he half-spoke, half gasped.

 

Cecil’s face was blotchy from crying, which was predictable, but the uneven, purple-yellow bruise surrounding his left eye was not. Cecil’s remaining two eyes were red-rimmed and shiny, and refused to meet Carlos’.

 

“That’s not all,” he said bitterly, starting to unbutton his school shirt, which Carlos could now see was crumpled and dirty on one side, as if Cecil had fallen or been knocked down. Cecil shook the shirt off his shoulders, revealing his pale chest, criss-crossed with - were those claw marks? - and mottled with bruises as dark and angry as the one on his eye.

 

“Oh,” Carlos said again, looking at the hunched over, shirtless boy in front of him. “Oh, gosh, Cecil. I - I think we should clean those cuts up, don’t you?”

 

“It’s okay, they’ll heal.”

 

“No, Cecil, you didn’t come here and wake me up just to say they’ll heal and go to sleep. You can tell me the rest of it in a minute - I’m going to get you some tea and some first aid supplies,” Carlos quickly wrapped his friend in a tight hug before climbing down the ladder and tiptoeing to the bathroom to look for supplies.

 

Moments later he pushed a cup with a bag of chamomile tea in it, a bottle of water, and a first aid kit through the trapdoor and then heaving himself up next to them. He pulled an electric kettle out of one of the boxes and knelt to plug it in, dumping the contents of the water bottle into it and turning to face Cecil with his face set in a calm expression as he made to assess the damage.

 

“Why do you have a…” Cecil started, rising from the bed.

 

“Science,” Carlos replied shortly, pushing Cecil back down by the shoulder and leaning over to grab the first aid kit. “Sit still and let me look at you. You will explain why you’re in my house covered in bruises and scratches in the middle of the night as I work.”

 

Cecil nodded, his unbruised eyes wide, as Carlos knelt in front of him and pulled a bag of cotton balls and a bottle of liquid disinfectant out of the first aid kit.  “Okay, so -”

 

“This might sting a bit. Try to hold still, okay?” Carlos held the first damp cotton ball aloft over Cecil’s chest.

 

“Yeah. I - ” Cecil hissed as the disinfectant touched his skin, but shook his head firmly, and Carlos saw him clench his fists in the bedsheets.  “So today, my brother - his name is Kevin - he kept bugging me, you know, calling me a little fag and stuff, because of my art, right? Just regular brother stuff, I guess, but - I don’t know, it was worse than usual, and Mom was hiding again, and -”

 

“Yeah?” Carlos said softly, encouragingly. He was pretty sure that wasn’t “regular brother stuff,” at least not in his family, but he didn’t want to interrupt.

 

“Yeah, and - and finally, I,” Cecil gulped audibly and paused for a moment. “I snapped, Carlos. I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s my fault, I -”

 

“What? What’s your fault?” Carlos could feel Cecil’s heart racing under his fingertips as he daubed the wounds. He stood and crossed the room to the electric kettle, which had dinged off a moment before. He left the steaming cup on the floor to cool before resuming his work on Cecil’s chest.

 

“I finally just - I stood up, put down the nonpen I was using, and I said to him, I said - I said…” Cecil trailed off for a moment, sniffling. “I said, ‘yeah, I am a little fag, Kevin. I like boys, so what?’ because I thought maybe if he knew it, he would stop using it as an insult, but he didn’t, he didn’t at all, and, and - next thing I knew he’d socked me in the eye, Carlos, and I think I must have fallen, or something, because then I was on the ground and he was kicking me, and his claws were so sharp, because Mom has been hiding for a while and he doesn’t cut them when she’s not there to tell him, and -”

 

Carlos wasn’t sure what sort of brother had claws, but this was Night Vale, some pretty odd people lived around here, and he wasn’t about to ask - not now, anyways. He tossed the bloodied cotton ball into the trash and stood up to wrap his arms around his friend, squeezing his shaking shoulders for a moment before whispering something about the tea being ready and hurrying to retrieve it.

 

Cecil reached for the steaming cup like a lifeline, and Carlos sat next to him on the edge of the bed, patting his knee awkwardly, unsure what to say. Most of the family’s stash of bandaids now clung haphazardly to Cecil’s mangled chest, and it was really a pathetic attempt at help, but it was the best Carlos could do at the moment.

 

“I’m really sorry, Carlos, usually I go to Earl when Kev gets too bad, but he’s on a scouting trip, and I was just so scared, and -”

 

“No no, it’s - it’s fine, Ceece,” ( _Ceece? What the hell, Carlos?_ he thought to himself) “That’s what friends are for, right?” Carlos found himself saying, though he wasn’t even sure if they were friends. They’d only hung out twice outside of school, and one of those times was in a grocery store, by accident, but it felt like the right thing to say.

 

“I guess so,” even Cecil sounded doubtful.

 

“Finish your tea and let’s get some sleep,” Carlos said gently, climbing over Cecil to the empty side of the bed. “It’s probably close to three now, and tomorrow is a school day.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Carlos dreamed he was being hugged by a very friendly octopus. Which wasn’t exactly inaccurate. Sometime during the night Cecil had turned from curled protectively around his wounded abdomen to curled protectively around Carlos, and by the time Carlos’ alarm went off, their legs were intertwined in the warm darkness beneath the sheets and Cecil’s arms were wrapped tightly around Carlos’ middle. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, or even that unusual, given his siblings’ tendency to use him as nightmare repellant, but the strength of Cecil’s grip was considerably, well, stronger, than that of his siblings, and - 

Why did Cecil seem to have more than two legs?

Carlos opened his eyes, suddenly awake enough to start asking questions. He rolled himself over carefully and found Cecil’s face inches away from his own. His eye was still painfully swollen, but his expression was peaceful, and his white-blond hair had flopped down to cover his forehead. Carlos thought he looked surprisingly childish. Reaching over the sleeping boy to turn off his alarm, Carlos felt him shift, waking up. 

“Hi, Cecil,” Carlos whispered, propping himself up on one elbow. 

“Ngh,” Cecil yawned cutely, tilting his head back, and Carlos noticed a myriad tiny flowers had appeared on his neck. “Hi.” 

He stretched and Carlos felt him move beneath the sheets, and a cluster of purple - somethings appeared behind Cecil. They were the same color as the flowers, a vibrant pinkish-purple which faded to silvery white on the undersides, and -

“What?!” Carlos shoved himself into a sitting position. “Cecil. Cecil what are those?”

“What are what?” Cecil blinked, his third eye slightly out of sync with the others, confused. 

“Those. These!” Carlos reached over and touched one of the things, and Cecil jumped slightly. 

“Oh, shoot,” the flowers on Cecils neck shot down under his shirt and disappeared. “Oh, no, oh, Carlos, I’m sorry, it - I don’t know, it runs in the family, sort of, I can’t control them yet, I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” Carlos passed a hand over his face as if hoping it was all a dream. 

“My tattoos, they -”

“Tattoos? Those aren’t tattoos, Cecil Palmer.”

“Yeah, um, I’m getting to that.”

Carlos crossed his arms over his chest, looking doubtful. “Okay, so get to it. I’m listening.”

“Okay,” Cecil sighed. “So, my family, we all get these tattoos around puberty - well, they’re not tattoos, really, they move, and stuff, and they just appear, I don’t know - but anyways, they show up, and usually by this time people can control them, Kevin can, and he says Dad could, but I don’t remember Dad, and I’m just - broken, I guess, but they only show up when I’m real angry or asleep or something - I mean, the manifestations, I mean - the others kind of come and go all the time, but they -”

“Hold on. Manifestations?” 

“Those things. My tentacles. I’m sorry, Carlos,” Cecil looked down, his cheeks suddenly covered with purplish freckles, like someone had spritzed his face with dye. “My brother has claws instead, and Dad had wings, l-like the Erikas…”

“Okay. Okay, just let me get this straight,” Carlos began pulling his hair out of its braid as he spoke, and Cecil watched, fascinated. “You’ve got… tattoos, that move, and sometimes turn into tentacles.”

“Yep. That’s basically it,” Cecil pushed himself out of bed, revealing his thin, pale legs, which were absolutely covered in sluggishly moving purple designs. “They tend to stay under my clothes during school - I think they’re kind of shy - and sometimes they disappear altogether, and I’m working on learning to control them, I mean, I’d never need to draw on paper again, but I’m not good yet. They kind of do whatever they want.”

They’re alive, now? Carlos thought. He reached out a hand, then pulled it back. “Can - um, can I touch one?”

“Sure, I mean, you can’t feel them, but you’re welcome to, I guess,” Cecil sounded breathless. 

Carlos reached out and touched a small sun on Cecil’s thigh. He jerked his hand back, surprised when his touch sent it careening away, scattering the patterns around it like leaves on water. 

“Oh,” Cecil said, backing up slightly. “That’s never happened before.”

“Huh?”

“No one else has done that. Moved them, I mean. They don’t usually react to touch.”

“Oh,” Carlos said, rubbing the finger he’d touched it with thoughtfully. 

“Yeah,” Cecil giggled. “I think they like you.”

“Well, okay. Hold on, can I try something?”

Cecil breathed in sharply. “Um. Oh - uh, yes - yeah, sure. Anything. Just a second,”   
Carlos watched in fascination as Cecil scrunched up his face and clenched his fists. The tentacles, which had been waving aimlessly behind him, shrunk quickly and disappeared into the small of his back with a wet slurp, as if they’d been sucked in. “Ok. Go ahead.”

Carlos sat for a moment as Cecil stood in front of him, hands behind his back, almost soldier-like, clothed only in one of Carlos’ t-shirts and underwear, before steeling himself and reaching for Cecil’s hand. He cupped it in his own, picked a shape from the masses on his inner arm, and with his free hand, pressed a finger against it and dragged. 

To both their surprise, the shape followed Carlos’ finger, hovering beneath it and pushing the others out of the way, or smudging them into blurred, purple oblivion. He drew a careful figure eight from Cecil’s wrist to his elbow, and this time it left a trail of clones behind it. 

“Wow,” Carlos said quietly, letting Cecil’s hand fall. The figure eight stayed for a few seconds before it seemed to pop, and the shapes around it rushed to fill the empty space. 

“Yeah,” Cecil added, seeming equally bemused.

“Carlito, what’s taking you so long?” came Lucila’s shrill, babyish voice from downstairs. Mamá says you’re gonna be late for school!”

“Oh,” Carlos gasped, rushing to the dresser. “Get your pants and leave the way you came. They can’t see you here.”

“Okay,” Cecil was already struggling into yesterday’s clothes. “See you at school then, Carlos.” 

Carlos watched as he climbed out the window, ran to the edge of the roof and disappeared off it. It wasn't a tutoring day or Friday, but he made up his mind to find Cecil at lunch anyways, just to check on him.


	7. Chapter 7

Carlos avoided his friends’ questions about skipping lunch in the chemistry lab. He already knew their feelings about Cecil, and if he said anything else, at least two or three of them would probably want to come along. He simply muttered things like “I have to do something,” and “I’m sorry guys, it’s important and boring - moving stuff,” until, with concerned, sidelong glances at one another, they dropped the subject and turned away from him, directing their conversation elsewhere until he left the room. Carlos could hear them whispering as he closed the door. 

It took most of lunch to find Cecil, somehow perched on top of the lockers in the east wing, hunched over a drawing pad, huge, purple headphones seeming to swallow half his head. Carlos tapped the metal lockers with one knuckle, and when that got no response, reached up and tapped Cecil’s leg, dangling over the side. Carlos noticed he’d changed pants, and wondered briefly if he kept clothes in his locker, or if he’d snuck home. 

“Cecil,” Carlos said as a greeting when the other boy finally pushed his headphones back and turned to face him. “How are you doing?”

“I’m ok,” Cecil swung his legs absently, kicking the lockers with a hollow, metallic boom. “Could be worse, could be better.”

“And your cuts? Does anything hurt?”

“Well, I mean,” Cecil touched his ribs, wincing slightly. “Yeah. And my face kind of hurts. It’ll go down in a week or so. Us Palmers heal fast.”

“I want to look at your cuts,” Carlos let the words tumble out in a rush, feeling embarrassed. He’d reasoned the only way he could properly check up on Cecil’s wounds would be by locking them both in the biggest stall in the bathroom, and it wasn’t something he really wanted to bring up, or get caught doing, but he was worried, dammit. If Carlos was even remotely correct about Cecil’s personality, he knew Cecil was not about to go see an actual doctor unless he was taken by force.

Cecil arched an eyebrow, pulling one leg up to his chest. “Already itching to take my clothes off, eh, Carlito?” 

“No!” Carlos said quickly, posture suddenly stiff. “I just - dammit - and don’t call me that!”

“Fine, fine. I know I’m too sexy for this shirt, anyways. Come on, then, Doc,” Cecil pushed himself off his perch, landing with a thud on the floor next to Carlos. 

Carlos walked with his face tilted away from Cecil, blushing profusely. He hoped it didn’t show, but figured a curtain of hair between them wouldn’t do any harm, just in case. By the time they made it to the bathroom, Cecil’s shirt was already half unbuttoned, and Carlos hustled them into the farthest stall, chiding him. 

“Do you want people to think we’re going in here for a quickie, Cecil?”

“Mayyybe,” Cecil grinned, wide and slightly lopsided. 

Carlos blushed harder and slammed the door of the stall. “For Christ’s sake, keep your clothes on!”

“But Carlos,” Cecil half-whined, eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you wanted me to take this off. You do have to make sure I’m not infected or anything.”

“Shut up,” Carlos pulled open Cecil’s shirt, annoyed. 

“Oh, Doctor Carlo -”

“I said, shut up!”

Some of the wounds were angry and swollen now, and most of Cecil’s bruises had changed from dark purple-black to a sickly yellow. Carlos touched one, gingerly, and Cecil sucked in a breath, muscles clenching. It felt lumpy and soft, almost rubbery. 

“This is going to take a while to heal. And I think I need disinfectant for some of the scratches. If I tell you to stay here while I see if I can coax some out of the nurse, will you listen?” Carlos crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his shorter companion, who was leaning against the wall with his hands clasped behind his head. However, despite all Cecil’s efforts to look cool and collected, Carlos had felt his heart fluttering when he checked the bruises. 

“Yeah, I’ll be here.” 

“Okay. I’ll be back in a second. Don’t move!” Carlos peered out the crack in the door, looking for anyone else who might have come into the bathroom, and then slipped out and walked to the other side of the building to find the nurse. 

He found the antiseptic cream before he found the nurse. By the time he saw her, Carlos was already backing towards the door, holding the tube in both hands like a precious jewel. 

“Yeah, I, uh, I have a papercut, I need this, sorry!” Carlos dashed out into the safety of the hallway as the nurse opened her mouth to protest. He ran all the way across the building, stopping only once he’d reached the stall where Cecil was waiting. He shut the door and paused a moment, panting. 

“You took, like, hours,” Cecil said from where he’d crumpled onto the floor.

“Yeah. Whatever. It’s all the way across campus,” Carlos grunted, still a bit out of breath from his impromptu sprint. 

“Whatever. I missed you.” Cecil stood up, too close for Carlos to be comfortable.

“Okay, well, I can do this, or -” Carlos gulped. “Or you can do it, whatever you want.”

“You do it. I don’t have a mirror, I can’t see them properly.”

“Fine,” Carlos sighed, taking off the lid and pushing it into Cecil’s hand. “Just be quiet, okay?” He squeezed a small amount of the greasy stuff onto his fingers and set about rubbing it into the first cut, which started near Cecil’s shoulder and slashed down to the middle of his chest. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“S’fine. This stuff looks like lube.”

“Cecil!”

“What? It does, admit it!”

“I told you to be quiet, Cecil. Do you want me to do this or not?”

“Fine. Class starts in two minutes.”

“Hush!”

“One minute.”

“Cecil, am I going to have to count to three like I do with my baby sister?”

“Okay, okay. No, you don’t have to do that. We’re going to be late.”

Carlos huffed, jabbing his fingers into the skin around the last claw a little too hard. He felt Cecil shudder a little and felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t remember Cecil ever being this…. flirty? Was it flirty? It just seemed annoying. Carlos felt flustered and annoyed, and his face was too warm, and he was just trying to be nice, why did Cecil have to make it so complicated? 

He smeared the last of the greasy disinfectant off his fingers on the back of his jeans and pulled Cecil’s shirt closed roughly. “There. It’s done. I have to go to class.”

Carlos brushed past Cecil, who was still buttoning his shirt, out of the cramped stall and bent to wash his hands. He was just about to leave when he felt Cecil’s hand on his arm.

“Wait -”

“What now?”

“Can I… Can I stay with you a little while longer? I’ll come late again, I won’t bother anyone, I promise, I’m just scared, see, I snuck to Earl’s house and got my extra clothes from there this morning, and he lives next door and I could see Kevin in the window and he still looked so angry, he was pacing around the kitchen and growling, you know, and I - I don’t want to go back there. I’m sorry,” Cecil let his hand drop from Carlos’ arm, his eyes wide and desperate. 

Carlos stared at him for a second. Then, “Fine. Just until Friday.”

“Thank you so much, Carlos,” Cecil said, sounding relieved. “Earl will be back next week, I’m really sorry to impose like this, I just -”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Sorry I was grumpy with you. Now let me go to class, I’m late enough as it is.” Carlos fought the urge to hug Cecil. He just looked so fragile, his thin shoulders hunched and his three eyes wide and wet. He looked like a lost baby animal, and Carlos wondered if he’d made up the whole uncomfortably flirtatious thing in his head. Surely something this adorable couldn’t be that annoying. He must be over-dramatising it. 

And so it would go. Over the course of the week Carlos would fall into a comfortable rhythm. He’d hang out with his friends, or tutor Cecil, or simply go home and play with his siblings or study, and sometime around when he’d decide it was time to get ready for bed, he’d feel a cold gust of dry desert air from the window and the next thing he knew he’d be in bed with a wind-chilled Cecil wrapped pleasantly around him from behind. Sometimes, he’d wake up with two of Cecil’s limbs wrapped around his legs, sometimes many more. Either way, it was to be peaceful, and both boys would be quick to settle into the routine.

It wouldn’t be until Friday morning that Carlos would remember that soon he’d have to go back to sleeping alone, and the thought was a surprisingly cold and lonely one.


	8. Chapter 8

On the third night of Cecil’s extended sleepover, Carlos found himself being shaken awake at an absurd hour he didn’t bother to find out. He’d noticed the clock on his phone was acting weird - sometimes the minutes ticked by like seconds, once it stayed 11:59 for several hours - it just wasn’t worth all that glaring light in his eyes for an incorrect time. Instead, he squinted at the Cecil-shaped blob above him, groping for his glasses. 

“Ceece?” Carlos mumbled, trying to sit up and finding he was unable to. “Wha - why are you sitting on me? Why are you awake? Is something wrong?”

“I had a bad dream,” whispered Cecil, not getting off. 

“Oh,” Carlos yawned. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Why am I awake then?”

Cecil turned away, his profile dark and silvery in the dimness. “I got lonely.”

“Mmf, Cecil, I don’t have time for this,” Carlos batted at a tentacle swaying too close to his face. 

“Sorry,” Cecil paused for a moment. “I just kind of didn’t want to go back to sleep, because Kevin is there, and I didn’t want to lay here alone, either. I want a hug.”

“If you’d get off my chest I could give you one.”

“Okay,” Cecil said quietly, after seeming to think it over. He climbed awkwardly off Carlos, and with little difficulty, Carlos managed to prop himself up against the bed frame. Immediately, Cecil nestled into the crook of his arm, cuddling close and putting his cold feet between Carlos’ knees. 

“Christ, Cecil, why are you so cold?” Carlos was tempted to pull his legs away from Cecil, but resisted. 

“I sort of wandered around your house for a bit,” Cecil said sheepishly. “I thought it might help.”

“You could have been caught! My sister sleeps so lightly, it’s a wonder she didn’t hear you,” Carlos admonished. 

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t do it again. It didn’t help anyways,” Cecil pouted.

“Mmf.” Carlos acknowledged Cecil’s words, absently beginning to rub Cecil’s back, noticing how soft his skin was where the borrowed shirt had been pulled up. Cecil sighed, contented, and they sat silent for so long Carlos wondered if he’d fallen back asleep. 

But then, softly in the dark, came his voice, heavy and smooth as velvet, “Carlos?”

“Hmm?”

“Could I have some tea?”

“Really?” Carlos tried not to sound annoyed. He was actually quite comfortable, now that Cecil’s feet had warmed up.

“...Yes?”

Carlos sighed heavily. “Fine, okay. I could use some too.” 

He pushed Cecil gently off him, and, without thinking, pressed a soft kiss on the top of Cecil’s head as he did it.

_What? What did you do that for? Carlos, what are you doing?_ Carlos thought he heard Cecil inhale in a soft gasp as he got up, but forced himself to believe he’d imagined it and walked determinedly to the door. 

Carlos had collected everything - cups, a bottle of water, tea bags, a small jar of honey - on a tray usually reserved for when someone was sick and needed to eat in bed, when he felt a gentle tug on his shirt. 

He turned around, balancing the tray on one hand, and saw Lucila standing in the dark kitchen in her Rapunzel nightie, rubbing her eyes. 

“Lu, what are you doing up?” He whispered to her, bending down to hear her reply. 

“I heard a sound,” Lucila was clutching one of her stuffed animals tightly. “And then I heard another sound, and I came out, and I found you. Why do you have the sick tray? Are you sick, Carlito?” 

“What? No, Lucila, I just wanted some tea and I can’t carry all that stuff up the ladder myself.” Carlos hoped she hadn’t noticed the two cups. 

“Why do you have two cups?” She had. 

“Um, I want a lot of tea? Why are you asking so many questions? Go back to bed, Mariquita.”

“Quiero ir contigo,” Lucila stared at Carlos as if daring him to say no. 

Carlos dared. “No, I want to go to bed. You’re too big to sleep with me, Lucila. You have that nice new bed, with the princesses, don’t you want to sleep there?”

“No.”

“Come on, please? I’ll make you pancakes tomorrow,” Carlos pleaded. Lucila stared at him for a moment, considering the bribe. “Pretty please?”

“Okay,” Lucila amended after a long moment, padding back to her room, her thumb in her mouth. 

“Thank you,” Carlos mouthed, and left the kitchen to maneuver the tray up the ladder. He heaved himself up onto the floor, and immediately found his nose mere inches - no, more like _millimeters_ \- away from Cecil’s. 

The scrap of moonlight which could leak in through Carlos’ curtain seemed multiplied tenfold in Cecil’s eyes, which all seemed to meld together up this close. 

Then, abruptly, all three closed, tightly, and before Carlos could react, Cecil had kissed him, short and shy and quick, full on the lips. Carlos blinked, shocked, and felt the heat rise to his cheeks in a blush.

“Hi,” Cecil whispered, his face still impossibly close. 

Carlos could only stare back. Finally, he sat back, and carefully closed the trapdoor. “I should - I should make the tea I think.”

“Oh,” Cecil said softly, following Carlos to the electric kettle in the corner. He paused behind Carlos, mouth open, but then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say, and turned to go sit on the bed, shy and abnormally quiet. “Was that - not okay?” he asked quietly when Carlos joined him, not meeting his eyes. 

“No, no.” Carlos stopped. “No, I think - it was okay. I - I’m not sure. I was just surprised, is all.”

“You kissed my head, I thought -”

“Yeah,” Carlos glanced over at him, hoping to meet his eyes. So you noticed that.

They sat silently, further apart than usual, as the the kettle boiled and dinged off. Carlos poured the tea, and when he returned, holding the steaming cups, Cecil seemed to have shrunk, his shoulders slumped and his eyes glistening. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, Cecil, I was just surprised,” he said quietly, putting down the tea and drawing the smaller boy to him. Then, even quieter, “I liked it.”

“Really?” Cecil looked doubtfully at him. 

Carlos thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

“Could - well, do you think I could do it again?” Cecil asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Carlos nodded again, an almost imperceptible movement, and a second later he felt Cecil’s lips touch his again, and Cecil’s hand resting oh-so-lightly on the back of his neck, and before he knew it he found himself kissing back. Unsure, his hands fluttered over Cecil’s hips for a moment before coming to rest just above them, his fingers worrying the hem of the shirt Cecil was wearing. He felt himself relax, and when Cecil pushed gently on his shoulder, he let himself fall back, pulling Cecil with him and deepening the kiss. 

And so they fell asleep even more tangled together than usual, each giddy on the breath and lips of the other, the forgotten tea cooling quickly on the nightstand.


	9. Chapter 9

Cecil didn’t mention the kiss again. Carlos hoped he would, hoped their usual Thursday tutoring session would turn into something other than tutoring, but it didn’t. Instead, he helped Cecil study for an upcoming math test, patiently herding him back from one distraction after another for the better part of an hour, and mentally went over every reason why Cecil would be acting so normal. 

He’d kissed other people, girls at parties in his old town - what town was that again? Carlos couldn’t quite remember - and even a few boys, usually the bi-curious types who just wanted to see if there was a difference between kissing boys and kissing girls, and he’d gotten mostly positive reactions, so he was pretty sure he wasn’t _bad_ at it. Maybe Cecil had forgotten? He’d mentioned forgetting things before. Maybe it was just a onetime - no, Carlos shook his head to clear it, forcing himself to look at the problem Cecil had just shoved in front of him. 

“Um,” Carlos ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face as he scanned Cecil’s neat handwriting. “This all looks fine. Yeah, it’s fine, fine. What was your question?”

“Oh, I didn’t have one. I just wanted you to check that,” Cecil shrugged, adjusting his magenta argyle sweater vest. Carlos wasn’t sure how he had so many neat, if quirky, purple clothes. “Hey, are you okay? You seem kinda spacey.”

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Carlos pulled his hair back and twisted it into a bun as he spoke, unaware of how Cecil watched, wide eyed.

“Okay,” Cecil seemed to accept his answer, nodding slightly. “Oh, and I got a call from Earl.”

“Oh?” Carlos said, after a pause which made it clear Cecil was waiting for a response. 

“Yeah. His troupe found something to hunt, I didn’t recognise the name, so they’ll be gone for a while longer, until they catch it, or get caught, whichever comes first,” Cecil shrugged easily, as if he hadn’t just suggested his best friend might die on a boy-scouting trip.

“Okay,” Carlos suspected he knew where this was going.

“Soooo,” Cecil was suddenly draped across Carlos’ lap, his head dangling upside down, giving his voice a congested sound. “I’m gonna need to stay longer with you. And Earl’s parents caught me using Earl’s shower yesterday, so I can’t do that anymore, either.”

“Um, you can probably stay longer, I guess,” Carlos said hesitantly, fighting the urge to touch the strip of skin showing where Cecil’s shirt had come untucked. “But can’t you use the showers at school? I don’t -”

“No,” Cecil interrupted. “The school isn't open early enough for that, and I’m not going until lunch without a shower. Do you know how much product goes into this?”

“Okay, well, I don’t know how you can take showers at my house without getting caught,” Carlos said doubtfully.

“Easy. We go together,” Cecil was still upside down, now stretching his arms down toward the ground, widening the tantalizing strip of pale tummy. 

“Uh - mm, um, Cecil,” Carlos was blushing now, partially from Cecil’s suggestion, partially at his own stuttering. He gathered his thoughts, then said carefully, “Cecil, how would that help, exactly?”

“Easy. Your parents would obviously suspect if they heard the shower going and everyone was out of it. If you’re there with me, they’ll just think it’s you, and no one will be the wiser.”

“What about when we have to, you know, leave the bathroom?” Carlos asked doubtfully.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, my dear Carlos.” Cecil reached up and patted his face reassuringly. 

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Do you want to see me unshowered? I think not.”

“Fine,” Carlos relented. “But this is a temporary arrangement, okay?”

“Of course, of course,” Cecil purred, the pat from moments before turning into a gentle caress. “Did I mention you look hot with your hair up like that?”

Carlos stuttered, caught off guard, and the empty classroom they’d commandeered rang with Cecil’s bellowing laughter.


	10. Chapter 10

“Dios mio, Cecil, be quieter, would you?” Carlos said in a harsh whisper, hopping impatiently at the bottom of the ladder. 

It was Saturday morning, earlier than Cecil would like to be up, he made sure Carlos knew, and the two boys were making their hasty way to the bathroom, with the rather optimistic goal of getting the both of them showered and back up to Carlos’ room before the rest of the family woke up. 

As the ladder creaked again, Carlos groaned inwardly, wishing there was an easier way of going about this. Cecil had insisted Carlos accompany him, in case anyone woke up before they made it back to the safety of the bedroom, and while he wasn’t exactly about to complain, Carlos had his doubts about the plan’s practicality. He doubted they’d both have time to get properly clean before someone - his sister, if he had to bet on it - woke up, and he didn’t see how his presence would help answer any of her inevitable stream of questions, but Cecil had assured him the evening before that they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. 

Despite all this, Cecil still hadn’t kissed him again. 

The boys ran on light feet down the hall to the bathroom, and for once Carlos was grateful that so much of the family’s clutter was still in boxes piled in the living room. The hallway, even in the darkness of the early morning, was clear and easy to navigate without knocking into things. 

Once Carlos had shut the door to the bathroom, he started having second thoughts. 

“We could take turns, you know, you go, then I do, or vice versa. It might be less time consuming,” he suggested, squirming.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Cecil was already wriggling out of Carlos’ shirt, which he’d given up on getting back. He hopped up and down, wrapping his thin arms around his ribs. “Hurry up and turn on the water, it’s freezing in here.”

Carlos obeyed, then hesitantly began taking off his own clothes. He was one of the few guys he knew who still wore long flannel pajama pants to sleep, and he stepped out of them shyly, trying not to watch as Cecil stripped off his briefs and stepped into the shower.

Carlos was just undoing his nightly braid when he felt a spray of water land on his face. He turned around to see Cecil standing with the curtain half open, one eyebrow arched in a way that could only be described as seductive.

“You ever gonna join me, Carlos of the Perfect Hair?”

“Y-yeah,” Carlos flailed, his mind a jumble of _keep it together_ and _oh god hes_ naked _in_ my _shower_ and _don’t look down, Carlos, his eyes are up there, don’t do it._ “Just a second, okay?”

Carlos shrugged out of his own shirt and stood still for a moment, suddenly self-conscious about the hair on his chest. He glanced toward the shower, where Cecil was still watching him, his eyes appraising, as if Carlos were a piece of fruit he was considering buying. Carlos hesitated a moment more before stepping forward.

“You shower in your underwear?” Cecil asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

“N-not usually. I just - I’m just a bit -” Carlos’ tongue felt suddenly three sizes to large for his mouth.

“Shy,” Cecil finished, gently. “There’s really no need to be.”

“Well,” Carlos paused, feeling his face heat up. “Okay, fine. But turn around, okay?”

Cecil did, after a few seconds of simply staring quizzically, and, with a final moment of hesitation, Carlos scrunched his eyes shut, pushing the loose boxers he was wearing down to his ankles and kicking them off. He avoided looking at Cecil until he had stepped into the bathtub, and suddenly they were nose to nose - well, nose to forehead, given the height difference. Carlos felt his breath catch in his throat. 

“Glad you could make it,” Cecil said simply, not moving. Then, without another word, he pushed the shampoo bottle into Carlos’ hands and turned away from him, facing the rush of warm water. 

Carlos opened his mouth, then closed it again, mentally chiding himself. He tried not to sulk as he handed the bottle back to Cecil. As he massaged his long hair, eyes closed, his mind wandered. He imagined Cecil turning around, Cecil actually touching him, Cecil standing on tiptoe and kissing him and pressing their bodies close, so close under the stream of warm water, and - _gah!_ Carlos shooed the thoughts from his mind, frantically grasping for an idea that was less… well, hot. 

_Helium is H, it’s a gas, and next is Li, lithium, that's the first of the alkaline earth metals, and then Sodium is Na, and Potassium is…_

“Carlos?” Cecil’s voice startled Carlos out of his reverie. He opened one eye, and then the other, to find Cecil staring up at him. “I was just asking if you wanted a turn under the water. You’ve been washing your hair for a pretty long time now.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I - uh - I guess so. Thanks Ceece,” Carlos felt himself blushing again as they awkwardly switched places. He shivered as Cecil’s skin brushed against his own, but forced himself to focus on rinsing out his hair instead of the boy standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. Carlos couldn’t help but notice that Cecil was watching him now, his head cocked comically, and he wondered how long this had been going on before. 

“So,” Cecil said suddenly. “Lovely morning we’re having, huh?”

“Sure,” Carlos said, almost giggling at the mundanity of Cecil’s question. He finished rinsing out his hair and looked down at Cecil, whose own hair was slicked back and shiny with moisture, the pink streaks blending into the blond and giving him a stained air, as if someone had splashed juice or wine on his head. He looked so disheveled and small without his fancy clothes and perfect coif. Carlos found it rather cute. 

The boys finished their washing in silence, wordlessly passing soap back and forth. Cecil turned off the water and flung the curtain back with a little too much grandeur. Carlos dug around in the cabinet for a clean towel, wondered if Cecil was looking at his butt, and went back to his monologue of elements with a new fervor, determined not to let his body betray him. 

By the time they were both dressed, and Carlos had waited a good ten minutes for Cecil to be satisfied with his hair, it was dangerously close to daybreak. 

Carlos stuck his head out of the bathroom door, looked back and forth a couple times to make sure no little siblings were out of their bedrooms yet. He nodded at Cecil, feeling rather cool and spy-ish, and the two of them darted out and made for the ladder. 

Carlos followed Cecil hastily, the mixture of excitement and apprehension making his skin tingle, and as soon as they’d made it to the safety of his room, both boys collapsed on his bed without bothering to close the trapdoor. Cecil maneuvered them both until his head was just under Carlos’ chin, his hair a cold, damp contrast to Carlos’ throat, and without a second thought Carlos found himself wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders, squeezing him tight. He closed his eyes and breathed in the now-familiar scent of Cecil, combined with that of his own soap, a serene sense of contentment washing over him as Cecil sighed against his neck. 

“Carlito, quién es ese?” 

Carlos’ sense of peace disappeared and his eyes shot open at the sound of his little sister’s voice. 

“Lucila, what are you doing in my room?” he asked, more harshly than he intended, pushing Cecil off and sitting up. 

“I heard the shower and I wanted to ask for breakfast,” she answered plaintively, eyes wide. 

“You know where the cereal is, Lu. You don’t need my help.”

“I don’t want cereal. Why is there a boy in your bed?”

“He’s my friend,” Carlos sounded stubborn and childish. 

“Is he your novio?”

“No! Es mi amigo.” 

“What’s novio?” Cecil whispered, his breath hot in Carlos’ ear.

“Never mind that. Carlos pushed him gently away. “Luci, mariquita, this is my friend Cecil. He’s not my novio, and he’s here as a surprise. So don’t tell Mamá or Papá, okay?”

“Why?” Lucila’s eyes were large and curious. 

“‘Cause it’ll ruin the surprise, dummy. Just don’t say anything to them, okay? Not ‘til I say so. I’ll make you breakfast. What do you want?”

“I’d like eggs, if you please,” Cecil interrupted, batting his eyelashes dramatically. 

“I wasn’t asking you. Lucila?”

“Eggs,” Lucila said after a moment’s thought. 

“You don’t even like eggs. I’m not making them.”

“I want eggs, like your novio,” Lucila was adamant. 

“No you don’t. And he’s not my novio.” Carlos was exasperated. Lucila’s face scrunched up like she was about to cry, and Carlos’ became a mask of panic. “I - wait, Lu, no no no, I’ll make you eggs. Please don’t start crying.” 

“Me too,” Cecil said again. 

Carlos sighed heavily and pushed himself off the bed. “Fine. Just be quiet, will you?”


	11. Chapter 11

Cecil left as soon as he'd scarfed down his portion of the eggs, ("What is in this?" he'd asked through a mouthful, evidently unfamiliar with the common spices Carlos used.) through the window, as usual. Shortly after, Carlos left as well, under the pretense of a study group, and they met at Mission Grove Park, near something Carlos couldn't describe even if he wanted to look at something other than Cecil. 

Back at home, Lucila played peacefully with her dollhouse in the living room. She took out her three favorite dolls - Henrietta, Orange, and Snow White, and set them in front of the house. She gave them tea and imaginary cookies and eagerly related her discovery of the morning in a childish mixture of Spanish and English. She asked them if they thought her big brother was lying about his possible novio. 

Orange said yes, definitely. Did Carlos cuddle with his friends or Lucila like that? No he did not.

Henrietta thought not, she believed Carlos wouldn't do that. He is a good boy, Henrietta said.

Snow White said nothing. She never did. 

Mamá, knitting peacefully on the sofa, said nothing either.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait and sorry for the shortness of this chapter and sorry if the grammar is bad I'm too tired to proofread it and too impatient about the next one to wait to publish it.

Carlos trudged home from his park excursion alone, feeling rather defeated. He’d had the intention to confront Cecil about the whole _why the heck aren’t we making out every night_ thing, but every time he got a chance to turn the conversation in that direction, he chickened out. Embarrassingly, Carlos found himself rambling on to and about trees more than anything else. Cecil, of course, nodded and gave little words of encouragement, like “Really?” and “Neat!” every so often during his tangents, but they hadn’t had any real, important conversations. 

Berating himself for his own anxiety, Carlos headed straight for his room. He sat on the edge of the bed, got up again, thought better of it and sat back down before pulling out his phone. 

Hey, Carlos typed to the group chat Rachelle had added him to a few weeks back. Bored. Anyone want Midnite All Nite?

There was no response. After a few minutes of waiting, Carlos sighed and shut off his phone, dropping the offendingly silent device on the mattress next to him. He let himself collapse face first onto his pillow with a groan. It, predictably, still held a trace of Cecil’s natural rosemary scent from the night before. It was pleasant and mild, and Carlos let himself enjoy it, enjoy the memory of being cuddled up in a warm tangle of purplish tentacles for only a moment before sitting bolt upright, frowning. 

“When did I get so _sappy?_ ” he muttered to himself, standing up and pacing around the small, round room. He picked up a book, put it down, opened a box, and finally climbed back downstairs to rummage around in the kitchen. 

Mamá was bustling about the kitchen, an unfamiliar daytime television show babbling something about shoes in the background as she began the dinner preparation. It was only about two in the afternoon, but based on the smell Carlos guessed she was marinating something. He slunk past her to the fridge, feeling guilty despite the early hour. Mamá had a strict no eating between meals rule, and Carlos wasn’t stupid. He almost made it to the hallway with a baggie of Big Rico’s leftovers when his mother’s voice halted him in his tracks.

“Ay, didn’t you have lunch, Carlito?”

“What?” Carlos asked, feigning confusion.

“You went to study with your friends, didn’t they feed you?”

“No, Mamá, we were - busy. We didn’t eat. Can’t I just take this?”

“Well, because you didn’t eat lunch. But eat at the table, Carlos, I don’t want rats or - whatever this town has - in my house.” 

“Fine,” Carlos rolled his eyes as he sat down, dropping the bag of cold pizza on the table in front of him. 

He chose the least sentient-looking piece and chewed in silence, half listening to the woman on the television gush about the glitter pumps currently in season in Double Spanish, half sulking about being stuck at the kitchen table.

“So,” his mother said suddenly, breaking the silence and Carlos’ odd, shoe-infested sulk. “Lucila had quite some gossip going with her muñecas today.”

Carlos’ stomach dropped. “Oh?” he said uncertainly, trying and failing to keep his voice light.

“Si, I think they’re going to be throwing one of the best parties in town,” Mamá laughed easily. “I’m going to let her invite some of her friends from school over next weekend. I’d like to get to know some of the other parents.”

“Oh, that should be nice for her,” Carlos’ voice was still high and unsteady. 

“That, and, if Orange and Henrietta have any sense, your new boyfriend is very interesting.”

Carlos nearly choked on his pizza. The bite he had in his mouth took this opportunity to pry its way to freedom and make for the open window over the table, squawking. Carlos ignored it, spluttering, “I don’t have a - he’s not - he’s not my boyfriend!”

“Ah, so there was a boy here eating eggs with you and your little sister, then,” Mamá nodded. “I wondered if she was making it up or not. I’m impressed, I can never get her to so much as look at eggs. He must be quite the charmer.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Luci was very offended that you don’t cuddle her as much as you did him,” Mamá pointed out. 

“Everyone hugs their friends. She’s my baby sister!” Carlos protested, red faced. 

“And I suppose you’re going to tell me next that everyone invites their friends over to cuddle at seven in the morning on a Saturday, too, now.”

“I - no, it’s not -” Carlos sighed. “It’s a long story.”


	13. Chapter 13

Carlos alternatively sat on the edge of his bed and paced around his room as he waited for Cecil after dinner. He’d gone over the basics of the ordeal with his mother - Cecil’s abusive older brother Kevin, his fear of going home because of him, the rest of the school’s apparent dislike of Cecil, and Earl’s hunting trip - but he’d left out the tentacles, the nightly spooning and his own confusing feelings. Mamá didn’t need to know about that. He wasn’t even sure how he’d go about explaining the tentacles.

Multiple times in the span of the evening, Carlos pulled out his phone to tell Cecil he could come to the front door, that he’d been caught, anything really, but he always ended up deleting the messages before he sent them, deeming them too forward, too ambiguous, too _anything_ , really, if it gave him an excuse not to send them. Finally, he settled on a quick you can come earlier tonight, shutting his eyes and pressing send before he could overthink the simplistic message and delete it. 

Habitually, Carlos unlocked the window next to the bed after he sent the text. He sat on the edge of his bed to wait, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin in his hands, his mind running a thousand miles an hour. When Cecil finally climbed through the window behind him, the sun was just beginning to moan its descent, and Carlos was so deep in his thoughts he hardly noticed until the other boy wrapped his arms around his neck. Cecil’s skin was cold from the desert wind, but the hug was comforting, and Carlos found himself leaning his head back to rest it on Cecil’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Cecil half-whispered, warm and close in Carlos’ ear. 

“They know,” Carlos answered, not bothering to return the greeting. 

“What? Who know? What do they know? Is it the secret police? They already knew everything from the moment you got here. You get used to it,” Cecil disentangled one arm from around Carlos’ neck and patted his hand reassuringly.

“No, no, it’s not the - I know they know everything anyways, why would it be them?”

“Well they’re usually the ones who know things, and you’re new here, you might not have gotten used to the idea yet. I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. Anyways,” Cecil prompted, still looking slightly suspicious. 

“My parents,” Carlos explained. “They know. About you. I mean, they’re letting you stay, Mamá hates homophobes - well, anyone who hates people based on something they can’t change, actually - so she sympathized immediately. She may be a strong believe in the new testament, but thankfully she prefers the ‘love thy neighbor’ part over the ‘gay people must die’ part.”

Cecil gasped. “That book is illegal!”

“Well it’s not anywhere else in the world,” Carlos said crossly. “Aren’t you more concerned that my parents know you’ve been here?”

“Not really,” Cecil shrugged. “I mean, you said I’m allowed to stay, it doesn’t seem like there’s any reason to worry.”

“But they want to meet you!”

“Okay, so let’s go meet them,” Cecil started to get off the bed.

“Are you crazy?” Carlos grabbed his wrist, keeping him from leaving. “They think you’re my boyfriend. My sister apparently had a nice little gossip session with her dolls in front of Mamá this morning, all about you.”

“I can be your boyfriend,” Cecil said, without missing a beat. “I promise they’ll love me. I’m a great boyfriend.”

“I - uh - Cecil, sure, that’s great, but -” Carlos was painfully aware of how hot his cheeks were. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just overreacting.

“It can’t be that bad. They’ll love me,” Cecil repeated. Then he frowned, suddenly. “If Lucila’s dolls are talking to her you should probably find out if they’re friendly or not, though. We’ve had some pretty hard criminal dolls here before.”

“That’s irrelevant, and they don’t really talk to her - she’s a little girl, she pretends,” Carlos snapped. “My family is all giggling about my secret boyfriend, and nothing is going according to plan, and my friends won’t answer their phones, and nothing makes sense in this dumb town, everything is so unscientific, and confusing, and you haven’t kissed me since last week, and I don’t understand why you’d do that once and then never even mention it again. And why are you so calm?”

Carlos went silent, realising what he’d said. 

“Oh. I - oh. Um. You were, uh,” Cecil scratched the back of his neck, blushing. His third eye stared piercingly at Carlos, while the others blinked rapidly in embarrassment. “I didn’t realise you were upset about that.”

“Of course I was upset about it, you can’t just kiss a guy ‘til his head spins and then never talk about it again!”

“I thought you were just humoring me because I had a bad dream,” Cecil explained, looking like he was trying not to smile. Tiny stars and planets had begun orbiting in his pinkish purple cheeks, turning in circles and occasionally popping like bubbles before reappearing to continue their cycles. 

“I don’t just kiss everyone who has a bad dream, Cecil.”

“I - okay, that makes a lot of sense, actually. I just didn’t want to get my hopes up for nothing. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t make it clearer that I liked it. And I’m sorry I exploded. I’m fine now, I think. I have to be. A scientist is always fine,” Carlos muttered the last bit half to himself, chiding.

“Huh?” 

“A scientist is always fine. And I am a scientist. Will be. Hopefully. So I need to be always fine too.”

“Oh,” Cecil thought for a moment. “I don’t know if I agree with that, but okay.”

“You’re not a scientist,” Carlos pointed out. His brief loss of control was fading.

“No,” Cecil agreed, sounding rather disappointed.

Carlos turned toward Cecil, who still seemed to be contemplating his existence as a nonscientist, and stared at him for a moment before making up his mind. In one too-quick motion he reached to cup Cecil’s head in his head, pulling the other boy toward him and pressing their mouths together. It only lasted a second, but Carlos felt immensely proud of himself. It was very unscientific, to make such a rash, uncalculated decision, but the thrill he felt in his stomach and the softness of Cecil’s lips against his own were worth putting off reason and science, at least for a moment. 

Cecil stared at him for a second, his eyes sparkling. “Neat,” he breathed, still so close Carlos could feel the word tickle his own lips. 

Carlos grinned, and with a new confidence, kissed him again, letting his fingers fold in Cecil’s soft hair. He felt the other boy’s tongue tease the seam of his lips, and found himself letting it through almost unconsciously, surprised at the sweet, almost floral taste it had.

Ten minutes - or perhaps hours, Carlos wasn’t sure - later, Cecil was following him down the ladder to where the family - everyone but Lucila, that is - was in the living room. Papá and the boys were playing a board game on the floor, and Mamá was on the couch, dozing over her knitting. Carlos paused in the hallway, suddenly nervous. His lips felt smooth and tender when he licked them, and he wondered if the swelling was visible. A quick glance at Cecil proved that at least his looked normal, which was reassuring, and the tattoos they’d herded under his long sleeved shirt appeared to be staying put, which was also reassuring. Carlos wasn't sure how he would explain those to his family any more than the tentacles. Squeezing Cecil’s hand for a second before letting go, Carlos hoped for the best and forced his feet to carry him from behind the door-frame, into the room, with Cecil at his heels.


	14. Chapter 14

The meeting went surprisingly well. Cecil’s tattoos stayed nervously under his sleeves and collar, and after only a moment of stern scrutiny, Mamá enveloped him in a tight hug. At exactly five feet tall, she stood only a couple of inches shorter than Cecil himself, but her grip was clearly stronger than he expected. Carlos grinned apologetically from behind her when Cecil squeaked in shock at the firm embrace. 

“Carlito told me un poco about your situation, Cariño, you can stay as long as you need,” she said, patting Cecil’s back and finally letting him go. Cecil shrank back to Carlos’ side, shyer than Carlos had ever seen him. 

“Thank you, Mrs…?” he turned up the end in a question. 

“Mamá is fine, Mrs. is far too formal,” Mamá replied easily, and Carlos felt a wave of relief wash over him. Cecil had apparently won her affection just by being shy and a little bruised up. His black eye, at this point, was mostly gone, but in the dim light of the living room, what was left of it was highlighted, and it gave him a rather charmingly pathetic look. 

Cecil nodded as the silence stretched, and finally Carlos broke it to introduce his brothers. As he spoke Carlos reached between them to hold Cecil’s hand, hoping the tight space of the love-seat would prevent anyone from noticing. Cecil half-waved shyly at the boys on the floor, and shook Papá’s hand with an intimidated expression, smiling nervously. He seemed relieved when Carlos declared they had homework to do and excused them both with a sheepish smile. 

Once they’d been chased down by Mamá, brandishing a clean toothbrush for Cecil, and Ramon, brandishing a sword to declare war on both of them, Cecil looked decidedly intimidated. 

Carlos confiscated the sword and shooed off his brother with a reprimanding “Leave Cecil alone, he’s a guest!” before following Cecil up the ladder. 

“So,” Carlos said, putting his confiscated prize on the dresser and lifting Cecil’s head off the mattress to rest it in his lap. "Not so bad, huh? And now you won't have to leave through the window at the crack of dawn, or shower with me." Without thinking, Carlos ran his fingers through the other boy’s hair, combing it back from his face in long, soothing strokes.

“Well, I mean - we could still do that if we wanted, right?” Cecil’s third eye blinked, slow and catlike, while his other two fluttered shut at Carlos’ touch. 

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to get up before sunrise, but, I mean, go ahead, I won’t stop you,” Carlos replied, feigning confusion. 

“No,” Cecil said, sounding exasperated. Then his eyes shot open and he sat up slightly, but not enough to interrupt Carlos’ petting. “No, I meant - wait, you’re joking. You’re teasing me, that’s not nice, Carlos!”

“I never would have guessed _that_ would be what you’d want to do again.” Carlos stared down at him, fighting to keep a straight face. 

Cecil blinked, his third eye comically falling behind the other two, making him look owlishly upset, and Carlos broke down giggling. He leaned down to kiss a tiny star meandering over the tip of Cecil’s nose, but missed as the other boy tilted his head to meet him. He only ended up giggling more as his pursed lips crashed into the space between Cecil’s nose and the corner of his mouth. Carlos moved the fraction of an inch to align his mouth with Cecil’s, only staying for a quick peck before falling sideways and pulling the other boy up next to him. 

Within seconds, Cecil’s fingers were coiled in Carlos’ thick hair, and Carlos only had a fleeting thought of how difficult it would be to untangle later before Cecil was kissing him again. In that time, every thought other than oh God this boy is hot sort of disappeared into a puff of smoke and left his mind. 

For a while, Carlos let himself be a passive recipient of Cecil’s affection, relishing the curve of Cecil’s lips against his own and the feather-light tingle when they passed over the hollow of his throat. He found himself lifting his chin when Cecil pressed against it with his thumb, and when the other boy’s tentacles wrapped around them both, lifting them off the bed, Carlos was almost too preoccupied by the sensation of Cecil’s lips and teeth dragging against his jaw to notice. 

Carlos didn’t have any more limbs now than he was born with, but he wrapped his arms around Cecil tightly, hoping the four he had were enough to convey his affection. He gently drew Cecil’s mouth back to his own, hoping there would not be a mark under his jaw where Cecil had sucked. As his lips parted and Cecil’s tongue lapped between them, Carlos heard one of them moan softly, though he wasn't entirely sure which. He tried to say “shh” in case it wasn't him, but Cecil’s mouth was firmly pressed against his, and Carlos quickly found out that it had been him, when it happened again, instead. 

Time seemed to stop, and when they finally parted, panting slightly, Carlos wasn't sure if it had been hours or seconds since they’d started. Cecil, laying partially on top of Carlos, tucked his head in under Carlos’ chin, and sighed contentedly. 

“So, are we, like, boyfriends, now?” Cecil asked softly, his voice hovering in the dim room, warm against Carlos’ throat. "I mean, based on what you said earlier, and this, and..."

“Mm,” Carlos said thoughtfully back, reaching to comb his fingers through the back of Cecil’s hair. “I - yeah, Ceece. I think we are.”

There was a pause, and Cecil wrapped his arms around Carlos’ neck, nuzzling in so most of his face was hidden in Carlos’ throat. 

“Okay,” he said eventually, muffled. “I like that.”

Carlos was about to respond, but the silence was so peaceful, he decided against shattering it with words. Instead, he simply pressed a tiny kiss against the top of Cecil’s head, and let the understanding quiet stretch on, undisturbed.


	15. Chapter 15

Carlos woke up with the sun, and blinked blearily as the unwanted light streamed through the window onto his face. He’d neglected closing the curtain last night, because the clouds were pretty, and getting up to close them hadn’t been worth disentangling himself from Cecil’s many limbs. Oh, how he regretted that now. 

Carlos squeezed his eyes shut and groaned in annoyance. Delicately extracting one long, caramel arm from Cecil’s clutches, he reached for his phone, still squinting at the sunlight. It was only 8:37. Still a good forty five minutes before anyone else would be up. In their old town, Carlos’ family had risen early on Sundays to go to church, but here in Night Vale, the only churches were so odd and unlike their old one, they’d given it up. 

Even if she’d been able to accept screaming and animal sacrifice into her church-going rituals, Mamá refused to worship a Cloud (all hail).

Carlos sighed heavily. He was fully awake now, with no chance of falling back asleep, but held tightly in place by Cecil bear-hugging him from behind. He squinted in the direction of the window and raised his middle finger as far as Cecil’s embrace would allow. Getting up to close the curtain wasn’t an option, either. Cecil’s grip was stronger than one might expect. 

As if roused by Carlos’ musings, Cecil shifted, pulling Carlos closer and nuzzling into the back of his neck with a quiet, sleepy moan. His pale arms tightened around Carlos’ middle, and Carlos wondered if the tattoos moving lazily on them were related to his dreams. Cecil yawned and sighed, his breath warm on Carlos’ neck. He lifted his head, tugging his arm out from under Carlos to prop himself up. 

“Hey,” Cecil said as he peered down at Carlos. His voice thick and low with sleep, and Carlos could feel it rumble from Cecil’s chest into his own. He liked it. He rolled to face Cecil with a sleepy smile. 

“Good morning,” Carlos answered, his own voice as thin and un-musical as always. “How’d you sleep?”

“Mm,” the corners of Cecil’s mouth stretched, and Carlos was unsure if it was a smile or a suppressed yawn. Cecil rubbed his eyes with his fists, like a little kid, and Carlos grinned, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the nose.

“I’m glad you slept well. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Cecil shrugged, sitting up and sucking his tentacles back into wherever they went when they weren’t out waving around. Carlos felt his backside land on the bed heavily as the tentacle supporting it disappeared.

“You want moonlite all-nite?” Carlos asked, sitting up as well and folding his legs under him. “I don’t feel like cooking, and Mamá won’t be up for another hour.”

Cecil nodded after a moment, then nudged Carlos with his pink socked foot. “Come on, then, get up, we’ve got a diner to patronise.”

\--------------

At the diner, Carlos stared intently at the menu. Cecil stared intently at Carlos. He already knew what he wanted. 

Eventually, Carlos decided to go with Cecil’s favourite - a Leslie Knope-worthy serving of waffles complete with whipped cream, strawberries, and a side of maple syrup - as even after having been in Night Vale for almost two months, Carlos wasn’t sure he was ready to try pickled spiderwolves’ foot or centipede salad just yet. He was relieved that at least the breakfast section of the menu looked normal. 

Almost as soon as Carlos put down his menu, a waitress hurried over, her pink uniform looking like it had jumped straight from half a century ago. Carlos had to clench his fists in order not to squirm when she wordlessly pressed her antennae against his forehead to extract his order, but Cecil hardly even blinked. As the waitress scanned his mind for his order, Cecil’s expression changed as if he were speaking aloud, his eyebrows raising slightly and then falling into an almost-frown as he thought out his request. Carlos would have laughed if he wasn’t so busy trying to get rid the slimy feeling inside his skull. 

“So, Cecil,” Carlos said after the woman had left. “How long does it take to get used to the feeling of someone reading your thoughts to take your order?”

“Huh?” Cecil’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean? This is always how it’s done.”

“Not where I come from, it’s not. Back in… uh - well, back home waiters and waitresses just asked what you wanted out loud.”

“What? That’s barbaric, you could be lying to them then!” Cecil exclaimed, sounding almost appalled. 

“Why would you -? No, wait,” Carlos stopped himself. “Never mind, that’s a stupid question. Can they see all your thoughts, or just what you want to eat?”

“Only what you want to eat. The only people who can see _all_ your thoughts are the City Council. For security reasons,” Cecil explained. “I mean, we wouldn’t want them to see everything. That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“Of course, of course,” Carlos nodded, as if any of this made sense. He reached across the table for Cecil’s hand, suddenly aware of how much space was between them, and how much more it was than he wanted. By the time their waffles came, Carlos had Cecil perched on his lap, and his arms around Cecil’s waist. 

Cecil bounced excitedly at the sight of the food, and Carlos jabbed his ribs, laughing. “How old are you again, Cecil Gershwin? Two? Or are you already three?”

Cecil slid off Carlos’ lap onto the bench next to him, and stuffed a forkful of waffles into his mouth before answering. “I’m four and a half, dammit!” He had whipped cream on his nose. 

Giggling, Carlos dug into his own plate, and was surprised that it actually tasted okay. 

“Thussish the omph gooh thih ee,” Cecil said, covering his mouth with his hand, but not stopping chewing. 

“What?”

“I said, this is the only good thing here. Everything else only tastes good at two in the morning.”

“Ah, okay. I see.” Carlos didn’t.

They ate the rest of their meal in easy banter - Carlos finally asking many of the questions he had about Night Vale, Cecil answering vaguely, indignantly, anything but helpfully - and paid in what Cecil insisted was the usual way. 

As the two boys finally gathered themselves and left, Carlos wove his fingers between Cecil’s, still puzzling over how the sugar bowl swallowing the bill could be considered a valid method of payment. He’d given up on getting any semblance of a normal answer out of Cecil, though. 

Meanwhile, a few booths over, another boy with dark hair parted neatly down the middle and tumbling against his ears, got up to leave as well, taking care to stay a good distance behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty guys I am sorry for the long wait Cecil and Carlos have just been so uncooperative. That kinda makes me sound crazy but I can't make them do what I want, I just write what they are doing in my head. Idk. Big imagination, I guess.   
> Anyways, I am crazy stressed with schoolwork, so, um, yeah, chapters might be slow until around april. But I'll do my best to get at least one a week. I actually have a few planned out right now, so I think I'll be able to keep that promise.   
> Oh, and thanks for all the supportive comments. My ego appreciates them. By all means, continue.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally made myself stop putting off proofreading this so you guys won't actually die of typos whilst reading it.  
> Also, if you're triggered by homophobic slurs and don't want to read them, there is a tl;dr type thing at the bottom to keep your sweet little self safe and happy.  
> Happy reading, lovelies!

“I was thinking - um - since this is our first date, technically, we could do some things, you know, date things, like we could go to the park and I could tell you about what I’ve been learning about the trees there, or we could try some experiments with that pink gas coming out of that pipe outside the grocery store, or -” Carlos talked quickly as they walked away from the diner,but quickly cut himself off, realising most people’s idea of a date didn’t involve science. He felt his face heat up, and shook his hair down to hide his blush. 

“This is a - Oh my glow cloud - all hail - this is a date. Yeah, I guess it is. Wow, I - Carlos. Wow. A date. Neat.” Cecil sounded as flustered as Carlos felt. 

“I mean, since we decided we’re boyfriends last night, I thought - I - yeah. A date.” Carlos stumbled over his words, flushing a deeper red.

Cecil stopped suddenly, twirling to face Carlos with rather more flourish than necessary. He was wearing a strange, flowy magenta sweater that trailed to his knees, with a shirt from the local record store and loose, baby blue pants that Carlos had mistaken for pajamas last week. The entire outfit fluttered in the light breeze caused by his movement, and Carlos was so distracted by the swirl of colors that he didn’t notice what Cecil was doing until their faces were suddenly close and Cecil was pressing their lips together in a quick but passionate kiss. 

“You’re just so cute when you blush,” Cecil said as he pulled away, his fingers and his eyes lingering on Carlos’ long, glossy hair. His cheeks reddened, and he scratched the back of his neck, looking away. “Annnnd, I just used up all my smoothness for about a week. You’re welcome.”

“I doubt that. You always manage to sweep me off my feet,” Carlos confessed, remembering the nights of staying up wondering how the hell this strange, tiny boy could have such a big influence on him. 

“That’s surprising.” Cecil frowned slightly, considering the possibility of his own impact. “Anyways, I, uh, have a tiny errand I have to run, but after that we can do whatever you want.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.” Cecil nodded and looked away. “I have to get some things from my house. If we’re lucky Kevin will be out with his friends, or passed out, or Mom will be there. He won’t do anything if Mom is there. I’ll only be a second. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay. I’d like to see your house. You know mine so well, after all,” Carlos assured him, feeling a twinge of both worry and excitement at the idea. 

“I’m sorry.” Cecil seemed to visibly deflate. “I just - Kevin…” As he trailed off, Carlos took Cecil’s small, pale hand in his own bigger, darker one, giving it a reassuring squeeze and rubbing his thumb across the soft skin. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Ceece,” Carlos reassured him. “I just meant I don’t mind coming with you.”

“Okay,” Cecil said slowly. “Thanks Carlos.”

“It’s no problem. Let’s go, then. There’s so much science I want to show you after!”

The boys walked the short way to Cecil’s house with Carlos babbling on about Science and Cecil making gentle encouraging noises and trying to very subtly find new ways to initiate physical contact. At the door of the tall, thin, white building, Cecil rummaged through his pockets for his keys, muttering to himself. They crept into the pastel entryway, Cecil leading the way and Carlos tiptoeing behind, craning his neck to look around the narrow room. 

The walls were covered in picture frames, but before Carlos could look at any of them, Cecil was shooing him up the stairs, whispering something Carlos couldn’t make out. The house was dim and silent, and as Cecil pulled him into the farthest room, Carlos tried hard not to feel like he was in a horror movie. 

In contrast with the rest of the upstairs, Cecil’s room was light and airy. It had large windows and white walls, covered in posters from cheesy old movies and tv shows. A particularly large Buffy the Vampire Slayer hung slightly crooked over his double sized, unmade bed. As Carlos took in the scene, Cecil stood awkwardly by the door, his thumbs jammed in his pockets.

“So,” Cecil said after a moment of silence while Carlos looked around his room. “I’m gonna go see if Mom is here. I’ll be back in a second.”

Carlos nodded and he disappeared out the door, shutting it behind him. Carlos stood still for a second before sitting down on the edge of Cecil’s mattress to wait. A second later he stood up again, curious about Cecil’s small bookshelf. Most of the books in it were, oddly, blank, or colored over, as if someone didn’t want them to be read. A shelf was filled with battered notebooks and sketchbooks, and Carlos’ was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to snoop. He was just about to reach for one of the sketchbooks when the door clicked open. Carlos jerked his hand back and whirled around. 

Carlos opened his mouth to say hello, but the word stopped in his throat and slid back down to drop into his heels with his stomach as his eyes focused on the figure in the doorway. 

The boy - well, man, really - was like Cecil, but not, at the same time. They had the same intense violet eyes, the same thin, child-like stature, the same softly wavy hair, cut short on the sides and left long and wild on top. But this man - this man was different. He lacked Cecil’s softness, and where Cecils wide, sharp-toothed smile was welcoming and quaint in its pointiness, this man’s was fierce and feral, like a wild animal who has just spotted an easy prey. 

His hair was darker than Carlos would have thought possible, which made Carlos wonder if Cecil’s might be too, naturally. And though it was cut the same way as Cecil’s, this man allowed it to flop down over his forehead in a messy puff, instead of combing it back into an incomprehensibly perfect quaff, as Cecil did. He wore a pale yellow button down, a striped orange tie, and -

“Hi!” the Not-Cecil said, his voice peppy and upbeat. Carlos was reminded vaguely of a telephone salesman. “You must be one of my little brother’s friends here to look for him. I daresay, you’ve come to the wrong place, he hasn’t been here in a few weeks. I’m Kevin, by the way.”

“Uh, hi,” Carlos said uncertainly.

“I don’t know where my brother is, but you can wait here for him him here if you like, as long as you’re productive.” Kevin’s expression darkened slightly. “Cecil isn’t very good at being productive, and it just makes me so bummed out sometimes, you know? But you don’t look like the sort to be lazy. It would be just awful if you were.. You wouldn’t do something as _awful_ and _horrible_ and downright _unproductive_ as be lazy, would you?”

Carlos, who was still reeling from the unexpected encounter, stuttered, “Uh, no, sir,” and found himself backing away to sit on Cecil’s bed, as far away from Kevin as possible. 

Then, Kevin made a tiny gasping noise. Carlos was just puzzling over why he might do that when a flash of blond and magenta appeared by Kevin’s shoulder, and it occurred to him that it was actually Cecil who made the noise. 

“Oh!” the actual Kevin said, grinning in a way that made Carlos want to find somewhere to hide. “You _aren’t_ dead then. How lovely. We were just talking about you, and what a lazy, good for nothing, fag you are.”

“Uh -” Carlos opened his mouth, but found himself unable to say any real words. Cecil pushed past Kevin into the room and stood next to Carlos, his expression folding into a frown as he faced his brother. 

Kevin’s smile only got wider, sickeningly. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Cecil, honey, this isn’t one of your little faggy friends, is it? I should have guessed, with that awful hair.”

“Kevin, please…” Cecil’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

“For the Glow Cloud’s sake, why couldn’t you just be normal, you little freak?” Kevin sighed, and he pushed his dark hair away from his face as he spoke. Carlos gasped at the sight. 

There, previously hidden under the mop of dark locks, was a hideous scar. Well, not quite a scar. Between Kevin’s eyebrows was a mess of stitches and scabs, and Carlos thought he could see eyelashes still stuck around the crusted, crescent shape. He tried not to look disgusted. 

“All the rest of us Palmers are straight, and productive - we’re good people,” Kevin huffed, drawing his hand over his mutilated brow as if he were the one suffering here. “What in the void did we do to deserve a little gay freak like you?”

Kevin’s nails elongated into yellowed claws as he paced Cecil’s bedroom, and Cecil cowered. Carlos stood and wrapped an arm around his waist, rubbing Cecil’s bony hip with his thumb reassuringly. 

“And you,” Kevin continued, and Carlos noticed his tongue was forked as it flickered between his teeth. “You come into my house, uninvited, on a day you could be working, and now you’re tainting my little brother with your faggoty little hands.”

“Isn’t he tainting me too, technically?” Carlos retorted, feeling brave for about one tenth of a second. 

“That’s irrelevant.” Kevin turned his horrible eyes back to Cecil. “Cecil Gershwin Palmer, get the fuck out of this house. Your Mother is… not present, at the moment, and I don’t want to see you here. You disgust me.”

“Please, Kev,” Cecil pleaded, waving his hand awkwardly toward the dresser against the right wall. “I’ll go, I promise I won’t come back again, I just want to get some stuff, please…”

“And who the fuck provided this stuff? Who worked for it? Not fucking Mom, that’s for sure. She never was productive or useful. You know who got you this stuff? Me. I did. So no, you can’t take it. Fuck if I let anything bought with my money get into your faggy little hands.” Kevin ranted, his horrifying claws kneading his own palms. “I thought I’d showed you good and clear that you’re not welcome here anymore but no -”

“Okay!” Carlos interrupted him, suddenly. He was shaking, whether from shock or fear, it was unclear, but he was reasonably good at keeping it out of his voice. He didn’t want Cecil to get hurt again. “Okay, we’ll leave. We won’t take anything. We’re sorry. Both of us.”

Grabbing Cecil’s hand, Carlos darted for the door, using his height to his advantage and shoving Kevin out of the way. The boys ran downstairs and out the door, and didn’t stop until they were back in Carlos’ house, winded and, in Cecil’s case, heaving dry, choking sobs into the collar of his shirt. Consolingly, Carlos opened his arms, and Cecil fell against his chest, limp.

“I thought he might have forgotten that he’d kicked me out for good,” Cecil said quietly, after a long silence. “I’m sorry that - I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. With me.”

“I don’t think you’re a nuisance,” Carlos said quickly, cuddling Cecil to him protectively. “I really don’t. I like you.”

At this, Cecil sighed softly, and Carlos felt fists clench at the hem of his shirt as Cecil’s arms held onto him tighter. His sobs ebbed away and died quietly, but he didn’t let go of Carlos for a good, long time. 

Carlos really didn’t mind a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayyyyy so if anyone needs it, basically Cecil needs to get some stuff from his house, but Kevin is there when he goes, and Kevin is a great big meanie butt, and Cecil doesn't get what he needs. You'll find out what he was there for later. It's not mentioned.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys u are gonna get spoiled af don't assume this is gonna be a normal thing I just got excited bc my v close friend helped me with this idea and I had to share it immediately.  
> It is kind of short and I am sorry about that but I should be getting lunch done soon, I just need to think about it a little.   
> Have fun kiddos.

Carlos arrived at first period ten minutes late on Monday morning. He’d enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, and, after Cecil had spent a good fifteen minutes adjusting his hair and asking Carlos’ opinion about it every few seconds instead of using a mirror, Carlos had walked hand in hand with him to school, at a much slower pace than usual, distracted as they were with their animated conversation. 

By the time the boys arrived at school, it was already past the second bell, and the wild gloves had been set loose in the hallways. Carlos stood for a second after Cecil bestowed upon him a quick peck on the nose, watching the other boy dodge the birdlike handwear before hurrying up the innumerable (actually innumerable - the number changed frequently as the teachers saw fit) stairs to arrive, breathless, at the chemistry classroom. With a sheepish smile at the teacher, Carlos slid into the only available desk amid the passively judgmental stares of his classmates. 

As soon as the class ended, Carlos was swallowed up by a hoard of his friends - somehow everyone else always seemed to get out before the chemistry class did - all eagerly buzzing conversation about their various weekend adventures. Cleo, tucked under Veronica’s chin with her hands resting lightly on the arm the other girl had around her waist in a far more familiar way than usual, poked Carlos hard in the ribs to get his attention. 

“So, Ladykiller,” she addressed him, confusingly. “Or should I say, Gentlemankiller? I heard from Steve Carlsberg - y’know, that weird kid with the bad hair in my english lit class, the one who’s always going on about conspiracy theories?”

“Oh! Yeah, I know of him, Ce -” Carlos stopped himself. “Yeah, him. I think you’ve mentioned him before.”

“Yeah, probably,” Cleo agreed, nodding. “He’s a pretty weird little guy. Anyways, he was going on today about how he saw you making out with none other than the ‘Voice of NVH’” - here she made exaggerated quotation marks in the air with her fingers - “Cecil Gershwin Palmer, at the Midnite.”

“What?” Carlos gulped, his voice coming out in a surprised squawk. He hadn’t anticipated gossip. 

“Yeah, I was as surprised as you are,” Dave said, patting Carlos’ shoulder. “That kid has a hell of an imagination. I mean, you’re not even gay.”

“Actually…” Carlos started, his throat dry. He was about to continue on and say he was bisexual, but Dave’s mouth, now in a perfect O, and a pair of warm arms suddenly around his waist, stopped his voice completely. He didn’t need to look back to know whose they were. “Hi, Cecil.”

“Hi yourself,” came Cecil’s reply, warm and slightly tickly by Carlos’ ear. 

“Yeah, he wasn’t lying,” he said meekly, feeling his face heat up at his friends’ stares.

“Who wasn’t lying?” Cecil asked, standing on tiptoe to rest his chin on Carlos’ shoulder. 

“Never mind. Tell you later. Guys, we’ll answer all of your questions at lunch, okay?” Carlos disentangled himself from Cecil’s embrace and dragged him away by the hand, away from the others’ questioning eyes. Once they were a safe distance away, Carlos turned to face Cecil, his calm exterior crumbling. “What the hell, Ceece? I wasn’t even out to them!”

“Sorry, I -” Cecil began, kneading Carlos’ hand in his own. 

“I don’t even know if they’re okay with this kind of thing,” Carlos interrupted him, running his free hand through his hair. “Oh, no, this could be really bad, I - no, I’m fine. A scientist is always fine. I’m very fine. It’s going to be fine.”

“Okay with what kind of thing?” Cecil asked, sounding confused. 

“Okay with - I don’t know.” Carlos waved his hands in Cecil’s general direction. “This kind of thing. Boys dating other boys.”

“Oh,” Cecil went quiet, and he rubbed his stomach, probably remembering Kevin’s bruises. “I’m sorry, Carlos, I just wanted to see you, I didn’t think -”

“No, no, it’s fine. I wanted to see you too. And, I mean, I was gonna have to tell them eventually.”

“I can stay away from you when you’re with them, if you want,” Cecil said quietly, eyes downcast. 

“What? No, Cecito, it’s okay. I want them to get to know you.”

“I know how the other kids think of me, Carlos.” Cecil’s eyes were serious, and almost all of their violet color was gone, leaving them dull grey. “I don’t completely understand why, but I see it. I don’t want you to lose your friends over me.”

“That’s ridiculous, Cecil. If they want me they’re going to have to want you, too.” Carlos pulled Cecil into a tight hug, resting his cheek on Cecil’s soft hair for a moment before pulling away. “We’ll face them at lunch, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, guys, do y'all want some bonus awkward-but-in-a-cute-way-first-time-smut in a one shot spinoff thing or no? Cuz i could totally do that. you know. If you want.   
> i feel like a shady dealer on a corner. "ey kid u want sum smut i got sum rite here only $29.99 monthly buy now and save"  
> (wow that changed paths quickly.)  
> (I'm hyped up on sugar I'm gonna shut up now love you guys)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahaha wow I am so sorry this took so long yall. Please don't give up on me.   
> I have been terribly busy with school and work and SO MUCH PAPERWORK JESUS CHRIST. And then I went to visit a friend and go to a Night Vale live show and I just lost track of time and neglected my poor characters.   
> Aaaanyways yes it is finally here, Carlos can stop stressing about talking to his science pals, all is well in the world.   
> Love you guys!

Carlos was a wreck in his upcoming classes. He stared ahead, glassy-eyed, unable to focus on anything but his own thoughts, which raced like wild plastic bags around his head. He wrote and rewrote his explanation to his friends in his head, and sometimes bleeding into his notebook. The more he thought about it and re-edited it, the more he felt like a criminal, and this was his confession. Finally in second period, he excused himself to the restroom, taking the usual hall pass/baseball bat combination from the teacher to fight off the gloves on the way out. 

In the farthest stall, Carlos propped himself up against the wall, and pulled out his phone. He felt bad skipping part of a class, but he needed to come up with a plan with Cecil. 

_Hey_  
Ceece  
I need to talk to you  
come to the bathroom on floor 3, ok? 

Carlos closed his eyes and waited, turning his phone in his hands as the minutes stretched between his texts and Cecil’s reply. Finally Cecil replied, a simple _ok_ flashing on Carlos’ screen in the silent bathroom. 

A few minutes later, the door opened, then shut, and Carlos saw Cecil’s bright red hi-tops come hesitantly closer, until he stood near the middle of the long restroom. Carlos opened the stall door and stepped out, covering the distance between them in a few long steps. 

“It’s okay, you know, if -” Cecil started, then paused, seeming to collect himself. “If you don’t want to stay with me. I know your friends are important to you, I’ll even come with you and say it was all a joke if you want me to, I - I’ll understand. I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t want to be in the way.”

“Oh my gosh, Cecil, no, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about!” Carlos barely let Cecil finish talking before pulling him to his chest. “Cecito, you idiot, I didn’t call you down here to break up with you, I just wanted a hug, or something, because I’m nervous about this.”

“Oh.” Cecil pulled back a little to look at Carlos. “Well, I totally blew that out of proportion, didn’t I?”

“Dios mio, Ceece. I’m just a little nervous. I’m not going to break up with you over this, I’d rather not have those friends if they’re gonna be all homophobic.”

“Yeah, I probably should have thought more before jumping to conclusions.”

“‘We need to talk’ _is_ a pretty nerve-wracking phrase. I’m sorry, Ceece.” 

Cecil didn’t answer, but he rested his head on Carlos’ chest, tightening his hug a bit before letting go. Carlos resisted the urge to untuck Cecil’s pink shirt and drag his fingers across the soft skin of his waist as they parted, chastising himself. He was here for reassurance, not a quickie.

“We should get back to class,” Carlos said, distracting himself. “I don’t want either of us to get in trouble.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Have you even _seen_ the principle?” Cecil shuddered. 

“No, and I think I’d like to keep it that way, by that reaction.”

“You do. Kiss for the road?” Cecil eyed him hopefully. 

“Of course.” 

They shared a too-quick kiss before making for the door and parting ways to their separate classes, both feeling infinitely better for the encounter.

\--------------

Carlos wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he rounded the corner to the cafeteria. As they’d agreed, Cecil met him at the door, and together they scanned the crowded room for Carlos’ friends. Just then, Carlos’ phone buzzed in his pocket, and a male voice shouting “ _Science!”_ announced an incoming text. He pulled it out to find a short message from Dave, saying simply, 

_we are in the courtyard. meet us there?_

“They’re outside,” Carlos said simply, holding his phone out to Cecil, who squinted at the dim screen over his glasses before nodding and turning toward the door. The two boys hurried across the near empty courtyard, past the few freshman huddled in small clumps on the lawn, to find the others, who were perched on the rim of the center fountain, crowding around to watch something on Rachelle’s phone. 

Liam was the first to look up. He bounced up as soon as he saw Cecil and Carlos, saying, “Guys, Carlos and his new boyfriend are here!” in lieu of a greeting. Carlos blushed as the entire group turned away from Rachelle to look at him. 

“Hi guys,” he said sheepishly. “Um - yeah. What Liam said. Cecil is my boyfriend, and regardless of what you guys seem to think about him, I actually like him a lot. I’d like it if you guys would try to get to know him as well, but if you won’t, I won’t be staying here. I can’t be friends with people who won’t accept me for who I am and who I like.”

There was a moment of silence, and Carlos swallowed, reaching for Cecil’s hand. Cecil squeezed his reassuringly, and the two of them stared down the group sitting before them. 

Cleo giggled, ending the silence. “That’s real cute, Carlos, but you can’t get rid of us that easily.”

“Huh?” Carlos frowned, confused.

“We’re not homophobes, you idiot, I mean, have you even _seen_ Veronica and I?”

“They’re gayer than a couple of rainbows, Carlos,” Liam explained, when Carlos’ face kept its dumbfounded stare. 

“I thought you guys were just really good friends,” Carlos defended himself. 

“And as for Cecil, we don’t know him yet, but if you like him, he can’t be half bad, right?” Dave said, sticking his hand out toward Cecil. “I’m Dave, by the way.”

“I know. I know everyone here,” Cecil replied, shaking the hand extended toward him. “I do the morning announcements.”

“I never would have guessed you were gay, Carlos,” Isaac marveled. “I mean, you don’t _look_ gay.”

“Isaac, that’s insensitive,” Rachelle reprimanded him.

“I’m not actually,” Carlos confessed. “I’m bi. I guess we pass a little better.”

“Carlos, that’s insensitive toward your own self.” Rachelle shook a finger at both of them. “I can’t believe you thought we would care if you were dating a guy or a girl though, Carlos. I would have thought you were smarter than that.”

“Yeah, well,” Carlos shrugged, trailing off.

“I think he’s very smart,” Cecil jumped in, finally stepping forward from his place slightly behind Carlos. “He’s like the smartest person I know.”

“Cecil,” Carlos admonished, blushing. But he reached around the other boy’s shoulders to give him a squeeze nonetheless.

As the boys sat down in the grass by the fountain, Carlos breathed a sigh of relief. The usual amiable chatter started back up, and Carlos was glad to see his friends reaching out to ask Cecil questions and include him in conversations. And Cecil, despite being wary of the group at first, quickly warmed up and came out of his shell, leaning naturally on Carlos’ shoulder while he ate his lunch and answered Veronica and Cleo’s endless questions about his prophesied radiohead future and his relationship with Carlos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also on a completely different note this almost turned into porn so many times and would you guys like a little alternate ending where Carlos doesn't go back to class and just does sexy things with Ceece in the bathroom instead? Cuz I can do that. Maybe. No promises its gonna be any good but this tiny agender ace loves his readers way too much.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh goodness yall, I am a terrible terrible writer for you guys. I always MEAN to write and then I just get distracted by school or work or youtube or tumblr or a million other things. BUT HERE IT IS. THE LAST CHAPTER BEFORE THE EPILOGUE. WHICH I WILL (glow cloud willing) POST TOMORROW OR BY SUNDAY AT THE LATEST. it is written, I just have to proofread/edit/give it to my lovely friend who gets to read it first and make sure its not absolute shit. happy reading :)

“I think I’m going to go back,” Cecil mumbled, mostly to himself. He was stretched out on Carlos’ floor, sunning himself, his bare feet propped on the dresser and his bare chest swimming with a myriad of tiny purple fish. The little koi swam lazily over his skin, occasionally appearing to breach the surface or dive down despite being two-dimensional images. Fascinated, Carlos took advantage of Cecil’s closed eyes to openly stare at them with unhindered curiosity. 

“Hmm?” Carlos answered after a long moment. His palms rested on the cool pages of a forgotten book, and he swung his feet absently in the air as he lay with his back to the sun on the bed.

“Home. My home, I mean. There are some things I really want to get back.” The fish scattered, disappearing momentarily under the folds of Cecil’s white school shirt as as he swung his legs down from the dresser and sat up. Though unbuttoned, the carefully ironed material still clung to his pale, magenta-freckled shoulders, as if held there by an unseen force. He crossed his legs under his body and his arms over his chest and stared at Carlos in a sort of childish defiance. 

“I - I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I mean, you know how Kevin acted last time…” Carlos trailed off, dragging his eyes away from the fish to look into Cecil’s eyes. 

“It has to be. There’s something I need more than I need to avoid my brother.” Cecil cut him off, stubbornly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Cecil paused, letting the silence drag out for a second to show he meant business. Finally, he added, “Will you come with me?”

“Of course, amorcito,” Carlos replied, immediately. “I don’t want you to get hurt any more than you have to. When should we go?”

“Maybe now?" Cecil was already standing up. "Kevin doesn't really work, it seems like, so there’s a chance we’ll run into him no matter what. We may as well get it over with.”

The boys made a quick plan of attack before leaving the house, deciding it would be best to enter through the back door in the kitchen this time instead of the more conspicuous front entryway. 

Inside, Carlos sat on Cecil’s bed, still mussed from their scuffle with Kevin last time, as his boyfriend piled his arms with shirts and brightly coloured tunics and his favourite fur pants. The boys were remarkably quiet, efficiently transferring clothes and small belongings from their places around the room to Carlos’ arms in near silence. 

Finally, when Carlos could hold no more and Cecil deemed his wardrobe sufficient, he stood back and placed his hands on his hips. Carlos was just about to leave when Cecil grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. 

“There’s, uh, one more thing I have to get. Wait for me in the kitchen,” Cecil directed. His voice was tight but calm. He bestowed a clumsy kiss onto Carlos’ lips, standing on tiptoe to reach them over the pile of clothes, before hurrying out of the room and disappearing into the gloom of the upstairs hallway. 

Carlos crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, sitting awkwardly at the kitchen table to wait for Cecil to come back. He pulled out his phone and put it away again, fussing with it in impatience, when he heard a shriek from upstairs. In a millisecond Carlos was up, dropping his load carelessly on the table and taking the stairs two at a time. It was only when he reached the top of the stairs that he realized he should have a plan. Another shriek pushed that thought out of his mind, and Carlos plunged into the inky darkness, blinking as his eyes adjusted. 

The hallway seemed to absorb all light, but soon Carlos could see it opened up at the end into a room, though there were a few doors on either side as well. He could dimly make out a few shapes in the room at the end of the hallway, one crumpled on the floor in a broken heap, the other looming almost impossibly tall above. Carlos tiptoed forward, high stepping to avoid tripping over anything he couldn’t see on the floor, until he was crouched next to the doorway, flattening himself behind the tiny bit of wall jutting out into the hallway. He breathed shallowly, praying that Kevin didn’t have super hearing as well as super claws. 

There was a yelp, and Carlos saw a few drops of glowing purple liquid - blood? - hit the floor by the Cecil-pile. The faint light weakened quickly, but the cut it dripped from - Carlos was unsure what part of Cecil it was - glowed steadily, illuminating the scene enough for Carlos’ light-hungry eyes to take in a little more detail. 

He could now tell that Kevin was taller than before, his disgusting yellow claws extended from both his feet and his hands. He crouched savagely in front of Cecil, who appeared to be curled up on his side on the floor, as if protecting something. The wound, still oozing blood, seemed to be on his shin. Kevin reached out, caressing Cecil’s cheek with a claw, his face splitting open as if sliced by a knife in a condescending smile. 

“Oh, little brother,” Kevin purred, tracing a minute scratch into Cecil’s flesh. “I did tell you not to come here again. I’m… I’m just bummed, Ceece. I thought you’d listen to me. We’re family, after all.”

Cecil said nothing. He didn’t even move, just shook silently as Kevin drew his knife-like fingernail over his face. 

“I thought I could trust you not to disobey my direct request. I asked so nicely,” Kevin continued, his voice slow and soft, as if talking to a baby. “And I really hope you didn’t bring your little boyfriend with you again. You know how I feel about that. It would be such a shame if something had to happen to him.” 

At “happen,” Kevin jabbed his nail into the space between Cecil’s chest and his thighs, into whatever he was curled around. At once, Cecil grunted, jerking away and curling into a tighter ball, but something else shrieked, an inhuman yowl that reminded Carlos of the cat fights he used to hear in the alley behind his childhood home. He gripped the doorframe tightly, feeling his nails dig into the soft wood, to stop himself from rushing in and doing anything foolish. 

“Are you really trying to protect that old thing?” Kevin asked in a bored tone, closing the short distance Cecil had scooted to in a single step. The boy was sitting up now, crosslegged, cradling a bedraggled something in his arms and murmuring comforting noises at it. Kevin prodded him with one foot, but Cecil made no response, continuing to rock and stroke the thing in his arms. Finally, Kevin reached down and gripped Cecil by the hair, tugging him upright. The thing dropped to the floor and skittered past Carlos, a dark smudge of matted fur and spines in the dim light. 

“Answer me, you brat!” Kevin commanded, holding Cecil up so he had to stand on tiptoe. Cecil only sniffled. His head was tilted down, and tears dripped from his chin. 

“Please,” Cecil whimpered, barely audible. “Please, Mom, Carlos, anybody. Please help me…”

Carlos was about to get up and intervene, when a distinctly doorish creak sounded from out of his narrow field of vision, and Kevin’s pointed smirk dropped. A warm light flooded the room, its hidden source throwing looming shadows from the brothers’ silhouettes, and Carlos found himself slack-jawed as an ethereal creature entered his line of sight. 

“Cecil?” The voice was soft, melodic, felt like being wrapped in a soft blanket and handed a cup of hot cocoa. “Cecil, why are you crying? What’s going on? Are you boys roughhousing again? You know I don’t like that -” 

The being broke off, and Kevin grimaced, turning to face it. His claws had shrunk back into normal nails when she appeared, and now he stood over where Cecil lay crumpled on the ground, sniffling.

“Mom,” Kevin growled, glaring at the radiant woman. “I thought you were dead.”

“Oh, no, Kev,” the woman answered, chuckling. “Just hiding. I’d hoped maybe you boys would be able to learn to get along if I weren’t here to intervene.”

“We get along just fine, mother. It’s just tough love,” Kevin cut in, gruffly.

“We both know that isn't true, Kevin.” Cecil’s mom walked - or rather, glided - over to stand in front of Kevin, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve seen the way you’ve treated your brother, and it isn’t loving in the slightest. You beat him, kicked him out of my home, called him unnatural and a freak for something beyond his control. I was a fool for thinking you would improve without me.” She knelt, running her hand through Cecil’s hair. “I’m sorry, Cecil, for ever letting this happen to you.”

“Mom, I was only doing what was best, I -” Kevin tried to defend himself, but his mother cut him off. 

“No. Kevin, you were my eldest. I trusted you. You were supposed to care for your brother, your only family, and you did the opposite. For that, I cannot forgive you.”

“You can’t be serious -”

“I am, Kevin. Leave this house - no, leave this town - and never come back. You have proved yourself and you are not welcome here any longer.”

“But Mom, I -” Kevin started, but his mother shook her head gravely. She clapped her hands and Kevin disappeared in a bright flash of pink light that left Carlos seeing green behind his eyelids for more than a few minutes. The woman turned back to Cecil, coaxed him into sitting up, pushed some of his matted hair out of his face. 

“I’m sorry, Cecil,” she said, gathering him into her arms. He was sobbing now, shoulders shaking as he clung to his mother. 

“I thought you were gone,” Cecil whispered between sobs.

“And yet I am not,” Cecil’s mother soothed him. “You see? Everything turns out alright in the end. And you can tell your little boyfriend to come out now. I won’t bite.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, and don't panic. This AU isn't dead yet. I have a big idea for these dumb babies, it's just too big not to be its own story, so I'm making a sequel. I'll post something on this one when I start it (like a sneak peek or something) so yall can find it.


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